


colour me golden

by devourer_of_books



Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, are you ready for the fluff, it's about to get real soft in here, light innuendos, more comfort tho, nothing bad happens ever, oh look its happy again, okay sometimes bad things happen, oops I just made this sad again, still into you by paramore but its a tagatha fic, teen crushes, this fic is my OTKproposal diss track
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devourer_of_books/pseuds/devourer_of_books
Summary: "Everyone knows that important questions are meant to be asked in the right moment, and nothing feels more right than trying to cook pasta with your long-time lover at 9pm on a thursday night."one-shot collection for tagatha month 2020
Relationships: Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil)
Comments: 256
Kudos: 221





	1. blanket fort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone!  
> If you’ve read the tags, then you already know what you’re signing up for. This fic is basically a bundle of fluff that I decided to make using tagatha month (check out their official tumblr to see all the prompts!) as an excuse.  
> All the one-shots from this collection are part of the same universe and will not be published chronologically (I’m putting dates to make it easier to grasp the timeline). I wanted this project to feel a bit like a photograph wall? Snapshot moments in time, if you will, because I’m pretentious like that.  
> I hope you guys like it!

(February 26th, 2022)

“Tedros, have you seen that fuzzy blue blan‒,” Agatha stops mid sentence as she walks into the living room. “Nevermind.”

Said fuzzy blue blanket had been apparently appointed as one of the walls of a **blanket fort** located in the middle of their living room. The fort looked a bit odd, but between the big beat-up sofa Agatha brought with her from her college dorm and the two fancy armchairs Tedros refused to leave behind at his father’s mansion, they definitely have had much odder deco choices.

All furniture had been pushed aside to open up space, with the chairs serving as corner pillars and the sofa turned, so the back was now serving as a wall, missing all of its cushions. The coffee table was oddly nowhere in sight. White bed sheets had been carefully placed (never touching the ground) as the ceiling of the cozy castle, with the blue fuzzy blanket serving as a door of sorts. 

Moving it aside, Agatha noticed that the floor of the fort was made up of the many cushions that were missing from the sofa, laid out intricately on top of the rug for extra comfort. Inside, she could spot her laptop, two board-games, her fiancé’s phone, a fan and at least a dozen chocolate-covered strawberries. The internal structure of blanket fort consisted of two broomsticks, put in an V disposition, converging into a front pillar, which Tedros was trying to make stand upright (with moderate success). It looked suspiciously like...

“Is that our curtain rod?”

“...Depends,” he gives her sheepish smile. “On a scale from one to ten, how mad would you be if I told you I borrowed the bathroom curtain rod for our blanket fort?”

“Two,” she sighs, crossing her arms, bending down to inspect the ‘pillar’, “maybe five, if it’s broken.”

“Then it’s very much _not_ our curtain rod and you need to _not_ shower until I call someone to fix it on monday?”

_“Tedros!”_

“Where did you hid the christmas lights after we took down the tree?”

She picks up the cushion closest to her feet, throwing it at the shirtless twenty-four year-old man. Her fiancé ducks out of the way with a laugh, crawling towards her as the soft object crashes on the back of the sofa behind him. She tries to grab another cushion, but he’s faster, pulling her down to the blanket fort’s comfy floor and into his arms.

Agatha yelps and pushes him in resistance, but Tedros is relentless in his hold, dotting enthusiastic light kisses all over her face and hair.

“You know, when I said 'we should have a clean-up weekend', this is not what I had in mind,” she mumbles as she holds up her hands to cover her cheeks, forming a barrier.

“Does it help that I cleaned the bathroom while you were tidying up the office?” he asks, withdrawing after a final kiss on her nose. 

Tedros folds one of his arms behind his head, as if it were a pillow, backing away to allow her space to get comfortable without knocking into the central pillar.

“Was it _before_ or _after_ you broke the curtain rod?” she chuckles, propping herself up on her elbows to face him, lying on her stomach.

“Before, okay?” He reaches out with his other hand for a strawberry, taking a bite before adding: “By the way, you really need to stop leaving the shower floor wet.”

“What, are you the shower-police now?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Tedros wiggles his brows, changing his voice to a lower tone as he continues, “Agatha Woods, you’re under arrest for your horrendous crimes against ceramic bathroom tiles. You have the right to remain silent.”

“Do I get to make one phone call?” Agatha snorts. “What is my sentence?”

“No phone calls for you, miss. You are doomed to eat some of the delicious strawberries your future husband selected for you, and give him all your attention and affection, _without complaining_ , for he has missed you over the week,” he picks up another chocolate-covered treat, this time holding it in front of her face. 

“The horrors,” she deadpans.

“Say _‘ah’_.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, opening her mouth to take a bite of the strawberry. 

Her eyes go wide.

“Oh, where did you get these?” she questions, reaching over him, across his chest, for the entire bowl. “They’re really good.”

“Of course they are,” Tedros accepts the compliment with a cocky smirk, “when have I have I ever failed you?”

Her eyes dart towards the curtain rod.

“Don’t,” he interrupts, before she can say anything, “just let me have this.”

She changes into a sitting position, lifting her hands in surrender. Her fingers brush the fluffy blue blanket accidentally and Agatha recalls what her main objective was.

“I’m gonna need you to hand over this fort’s door. I need to put it on the laundry pile or we’re gonna forget it when we go to the laundromat later.”

“Oh, I thought we were only doing laundry on sunday?” Tedros asks, sitting across from her, moving the rest of strawberries farther away from them. “I haven’t sorted my basket yet.”

Agatha frowns at him, reaching for the treat.

“I ran out of clean shirts,” she admits. “Can’t just go around wearing just _your_ shirts for the next few days, can I?” 

He intercepts her hand, using it as leverage to get her into his lap.

“Personally,” he whispers in her ear, placing a few kisses on her jaw, running his hands up and down her exposed legs, “I think you pull off the lookwell.”

“ _Down, boy,_ ” Agatha taps his shoulders, but otherwise doesn’t move from her spot on his lap, lacing her arms behind his head. “Be good. I’m gonna need your help sorting my own laundry.”

“You know, you’d be a lot better at that if you didn’t cut off the tags.”

“But they’re so itchy!” She complains, one hand coming up to play with the hair on his nape. “ _I hate doing laundry_.”

“And _that,_ ” Tedros chuckles, giving her a peck, tugging on the hem of the navy blue henley shirt he'd been wearing last night, which Agatha had been using all morning as a substitute for her large _stay-at-home_ band T-shirts, “is why you always run out of shirts.”

“And _this_ ,” she slips one of her hands down to trace random shapes on his naked chest, “is why _you_ never run out of shirts.”

“Complaints?”

Agatha’s hands move to his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss, to wipe the conceited smirk that overcame his features at her lack of response. He is happy to allow her to do so, snaking his hands around her waist, over his shirt, trying to hold her even closer.

She feels Tedros start to get a bit _too carried away_ , smiling smugly as she withdraws from him. He chases after her lips and she places a finger over his pout.

“The sooner we finish sorting the clothes, the sooner we can come back to the blanket fort.”

His hands tighten around her waist in protest.

“C’mon,” Agatha kisses his cheek, “I’ll even show you where I hid the christmas lights.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to write half of these in advance and do the other half during july, releasing a chapter per day, yet, due to a few problems, my writing schedule has gone up in flames, so I’ll be running late, but I’m prioritizing this project over my other four current works to try and get all this fluff out as soon as I can. As of this moment, all 31 chapters have been outlined, but I need to actually write about 18 and edit, like 27, so please have mercy on my soul.


	2. summer day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> We’ll finally start having some world-building for this au, but don’t worry, this is still pretty much just fluff, because while I do love myself some world-building, I am a weak-hearted, soft girl, in need of soft content lacking much plot.  
> A huge thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos and/or sent me a dm on instagram, it means so much to me, especially because this project had the set back I mentioned last chapter, and your support helps keep me motivated. Again, thank you, you guys are wonderful!

(July 4th, 2016 ) 

“I hate it here,” Agatha frowns at Tedros while he opens the front door, blocking the scorching sun with her hand as soon as she steps out, “whose idea was this again?”

“Sophie’s,” Tedros snorts, walking down the steps of his father’s beach villa, towards the ocean, looking every bit like he was born to bask in the light of a sunny **summer day**. “I’m still not sure how she convinced Hester and Anadil to come.”

“She’s Sophie,” she replies and he hums in agreement, though she has an idea as to how her friend had managed the feat.

It really wasn’t hard to get most people in their class to agree to spend a weekend at a luxury estate by the beach, but for special cases, such as Hester, Anadil, Ravan, and even Agatha herself, Sophie had resorted to the next best thing: _guilt tripping and emotional manipulation._

She even had most of her work already done for her, given it would be their last summer before college and everyone was more or less on the verge of existential crisis. As Sophie had put it:

_This trip is your one last chance to enjoy summer and have fun with your friends before not seeing them again for ten years until the high school reunion, even though you vowed to call each other weekly. One last adventure all together, before we go our separate ways into the great unknown of adulthood, before you lose all hope of ever achieving your dreams and become a slave to corporate capitalism. Last glimpse of fun, before you spend the rest of your miserable life working a nine-to-five you hate, going home to no one but your regrets._

Yeah, nothing like appealing to the deepest fears of your peers to get them to spend time with you. Nevermind that there were still almost _two months_ from september.

It did get Agatha thinking though. Well, more than she already was.

Her best friend was going away to a big name design school in Shazabah; Hester, Anadil and Dot were going to Netherwood University in the south… and Agatha was going to Camelot University, across the country. 

_What a weird plot twist._

If you had told Agatha this on the first day of freshman year, she’d have laughed and asked you what kind of heavy drugs were you on.

She never even thought about going to college when she started high school. Her plan had been to survive boarding school, graduate averagely, and then go back to the small city of Gavaldon to take over her mother’s tea shop, hopefully with Sophie in a tow. And now, here she was, packing her things and preparing to go to a big city. A city where she knew _no one,_ other then her boyfriend, whom she had only been _officially_ dating for less than a year, his father, whom she met _once_ and wasn’t sure what to think of, and his funny great-uncle Merlin, whom she had bonded with over embarrassing stories about said boyfriend during the previous christmas.

Agatha spent the entire senior year worrying about her future, about what she wanted, about who she was... and while she still had way more questions then she had answers-

“Hello, Earth to Agatha, are you in there?” Tedros waved a hand in front of her face with a concerned look. “Did you bring them?”

_She had no doubt she was making the right choice._

“Sorry, I spaced out a bit,” she responds, grasping his hand and interlocking their fingers as they approached the end of the front lawn. Green grass and concrete gave way to about a football field’s worth of blinding sand until what she presumed was the ocean. “How are you seeing anything? I think the sun is burning my eyeballs.”

“I’m gonna take that as a _‘no, Tedros, my love, I did not bring my sunglasses,’_ ” he snickered, before reaching for his, sitting on top of his head, placing them on her face. “There you go.”

“You won’t need them?” Agatha asks, fixing them with her free hand.

“Not for now, I think I’ll swim for a bit first,” he tells her, throwing his flip flops somewhere on the grass behind them, “wanna come along?”

“I’m not much of a swimmer,” she responds candidly, which was a mistake.

“You don’t know how to swim?” Tedros lifts a brow, the early traces of his insufferable smirk coming through.

“I can, like, _not drown,_ if you’re wondering,” she sneers letting go of his hand. “I swim just _fine._ ”

“I could coach you,” Tedros offers smuggly, purposefully ignoring what she said, stepping into her personal space. “One or two people may have mentioned I’m a good swimmer. Won a medal or two, you know.”

Agatha rolls her eyes behind the shades, stepping away from him while trying to hide from the scorching sun in the shadow of a palm tree at the same time.

“ _Oh, wow, such an honor,_ ” she dramatizes, “I’ll pass.”

“I’ll be your personal lifeguard,” he goes on, “I know CPR and everything.” Her boyfriend pokes her side playfully, chuckling as she swats his hand away with an annoyed huff, squinting at the pink parasol in the distance.

“Do you think Sophie took that cooler with the fruity drinks with her?” she asks, changing the subject. “I need them or I’m gonna have a stroke soon.”

“You don’t even like those drinks,” Tedros points out, creating a shade with his hands to try and spot the cooler.

“It’s too hot out here, I’ll drink _poison_ if it’s cold enough.”

“It’s not _that hot_ today.”

“You know, the fact that you’re not melting right now?” Agatha gestures towards him. “Offensive.”

“I _am_ melting,” Tedros disagrees, rubbing his sweaty forearm on her side, to which she protests. “But it’s the beach, it’s supposed to be hot.”

“Not all beaches.”

“All the good ones,” he insists. “Besides, you’ll feel better once you take off the cover up. All that black is absorbing more heat.”

“Yeah, I’m sure _someone_ would feel better if I took it off,” she bites back a smile, “not sure if it's me though.”

“I admit to nothing,” he smiles back.

Agatha starts walking, about to step into the sand, when Tedros' arms wrap around her waist, lifting her back onto the grass, lightly tickling her sides before letting go.

She glares at him, squirming away with an involuntary giggle.

“It’s almost 11, the sand is gonna be crazy hot; we should run. Race you to Sophie’s parasol?”

“Winner lets the loser eat their desert for the rest of the trip?” Agatha offers, already knowing the outcome of the race.

“I was thinking of something along the lines of ‘loser has to put on sunscreen on the winner's shoulders’,” Tedros wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, before patting his bare skin. “Massage included. Bonus points if you do my entire back with the one that smells like honeysuckle.”

She hits him on the arm, but the smirk playing on her lips told a completely different story.

They’re just getting ready to count to three when they hear the front door open with a loud _slam_ , a few hushed words exchanged before it closes again with an even louder _bam_ , followed by the sound of moody footsteps as a new pair emerged into view.

Both Tedros and Agatha turn around, facing the two girls.

“I hate it here,” Anadil frowns, fixing her sunglasses on her face, as well as her big beach hat, holding another pair of glasses in her hands as her girlfriend locks the door.

“Whose idea was this again?” Hester mumbles, blocking the scorching sun with her hand as she steps out, accepting the dark lenses Anadil offered her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background hestadil on my tagatha fic? Absolutely.  
> I mentioned this on insta, but the idea of Agatha being able to swim in canon is hilarious to me, and so, for this au, welcome competitive-swimmer!Tedros and his able-to-not-drown-girlfriend.


	3. halloween party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s your girl, back at it again with the plot-less content.  
> Again, thank you all for your support of this project! It makes me really happy to know you guys are enjoying it!  
> And without further ado, let’s go:

(October 30th, 2014) 

Tedros hears her before he even sees her. _It's the shoes,_ he guesses.

“ _No-ball,_ ” Agatha reads the big banner over his head out loud, advancing towards him through the orderly chaos of a semi-transformed gym, her tone filled with disbelief. “Seriously? _I skip one meeting-_ Who even voted that name? Actually, no, who even _came up_ with that name?”

“How do you know _I_ didn’t come up with it? Maybe I just didn’t wanna call it **halloween party** ,” Tedros teased, placing the heavy box he was carrying on a table, just as she checked the inventory list, scribbling notes on the side.

“We could have just not called it anything at all; it’s a homecoming dance, call it _‘homecoming’,_ ” Agatha insists, squinting at the messy handwriting on the box label. “Is that all the black fabric or just the one going on the walls?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s all of it, let me check,” he replies, cutting it open and examining the big rolls of black fabric for the info tags before continuing to make his point. “Calling it just _‘homecoming’_ would be no fun. Sophie pitched the idea, Nicola said she didn’t mind and-”

“And Hester probably said 'no',” she interrupted, frowning at the list.

“And Hester said _‘absolutely not’_ ,” Tedros confirms, doing a mediocre Hester impression as he picked up another box from under the table, scanning the colorful fabrics, trying to spot any stray black fabric rolls. “But _I_ thought it sounded kinda cool, and since-”

“Since you’re the student council president and your vice-president wasn’t in the meeting to stop you,” Agatha acusses, counting the number of ghost-lamps hanging from the ceiling with her pen, “you decided to approve it anyway, without putting a vote?” 

“Well, yes,” he scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Are you angry?”

“It does sound kinda cool,” she admits, crossing her arms as she sets the list down on the table, slightly leaning her hip on it as she eyed him, deadly serious, “but if you do that again, I’m impeaching you.”

“No, you’re not,” Tedros grabs the list, marking down the 'black fabrics' item with a tick. “I don’t think you’re, like, _allowed_ to do that.”

“Did I stutter?” Agatha lifts a brow, though he could tell she was trying not to smile. “Try it.”

“Oh, bite me,” he snickers, placing both boxes back under the table.

_“I just might.”_

The _thud_ sound is so loud it echoes through the entire gym.

“Are you alright?!”

“Yeah,” he replies, cringing at how strangled his voice sounded, holding his throbbing forehead.

Ripped black jeans and aggressively-chunky boots appear into view before a worried Agatha crouched down. Her eyes scan him, looking for any sign he was actually hurt before sighing, and Tedros takes in her appearance.

The vice-president is wearing a white blouse stained red with a black vest over it, as well as a pointy high-collared black cape. He had noticed that she looked a bit paler when she walked in; Agatha always looked pale overall, but now that he paid more attention, she seemed to have a layer of white powder all over her face, as well as some black liner and bright red lipstick.

And, almost as if she senses he’s looking for _something_ to make the connection, she opens a sharp smile, showing off fake white fangs.

“Vampire, hm” Tedros concludes, gulping nervously, “how very original of you.”

“Says _you,_ prince charming,” Agatha extends a hand to help him up.

“Impressed?” He takes it, pulling himself up before doing a slow turn, showing off the blue and gold three-piece matching ensemble, complete with a fake sword on his belt, as she picks up the list again.

“I’m impressed that you’re wearing an actual shirt this year,” she snorts, walking towards the stage to check the sound equipment. Tedros is just behind her, despite the fact that he had no more errands to run there and, in fact, had been complaining about being exhausted less than five minutes prior. “Aren’t you allergic to those?”

 _“Funny,"_ he mocks as they climb over the barrier separating the stage from the dance floor. The boy pauses, before putting a hand on her arm, calling Agatha’s gaze back to him as he continues, now in a lower tone: “You look good, though. The liner brings out your eyes; they’re very pretty.”

Agatha gives him an unreadable look and Tedros backpedals:

“I mean, _you look pretty-_ Your eyes, your eyes look pretty _today_ , because of the makeup, the vampire makeup for the party, I wouldn’t know if they look pretty _everyday_ , like, they are, _you_ are, but I don’t-”

“Thanks,” she replies slowly, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do or say in response, giving him a once over, “you, hm, look good too.”

“I do?” He preens, straightening his jacket. Agatha rolls her eyes, back to looking over the equipment. “People told me they’re voting for me as homecoming king, so I thought I’d try to look the part. I don’t think I’ll win, though. Still a junior after all.”

“Did someone test any of the mics already?” she asks, checking the number on the list, comparing it to the amount in front of her, noticing a deficit.

“Chaddick did, these are the ones that are working fine, Nicola has the rest, she’s trying to fix some of them backstage, I think,” Tedros explains, tugging on her arm to lead her in that direction.

“For what’s worth,” she whispers to him under her breath, “you have my vote too. For _homecoming king,_ I mean.” 

“You’re voting for me?” He asks, surprised. “You think I’ll win?”

“Yeah, I mean, we’re friends, right?” She points out straightforwardly, a red rash on her appearing on her neck and breaking through the white powder on her cheeks. “Besides, you’re student council president _and_ captain of the swim team _and_ everybody likes you.”

“Well, then if I do win, promise me you’ll save me a dance?” Tedros flirts, a hand slipping to her waist.

Agatha freezes and their walk comes to halt just before they reach the actual backstage space, hidden from view by the heavy curtains.

He tries to discern her expression, wondering if he went a bit too far. They were _friends_ and he flirted with all of his friends. It was just part of his personality. Usually, it was all in good faith, an inside joke, not meant to be taken seriously as it didn’t really mean anything. _Usually._

As she once again gives him that blank look that made it absolutely impossible to tell what was going on inside her mind, realization sinks in for him, all at once.

_Oh._

_He’s so screwed._

An influx of butterflies plagues his belly as he forgets how to breathe, waiting for her response. _He was so stupid, why did he do that-_

“I’ll think about it,” Agatha answers at last, the words slipping through red-painted lips so softly it takes Tedros a few seconds to recover, wondering if he had imagined it.

“Really?” He inhales sharply, noticing just how close they are. Close enough that he could easily reach out and kiss her. His hand is already at her waist, all he had to do was-

“TESTING 1,2,3… see, I told you it was still working, TESTING TESTING, _OUCH, NICOLA!_ ” Hort’s voice blares through the speakers, followed by a horrid noise, shattering the moment and Tedros and Agatha jump apart.

She practically sprints towards the backstage, her face and neck on fire, Tedros following closely behind, in a similar state, trying not to focus on the sinking disappointment on his gut.

“Oh, hey, Agatha, you’re here,” Nicola greets from her spot, surrounded by a bunch of mics, Hort sitting on the ground to her left, looking grumpy. “Could you get the spare wires for me? It’s the big blue box on the top shelf downstairs.”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

The student council treasurer thanks her and says _‘hi’_ to Tedros briefly. Hort seems confused to see him, but Nicola gives Tedros a knowing look and even though he’s sure there’s no way she saw the interaction a few moments prior, his face burns. He is quick to hurry Agatha towards the stairs, away from Nicola and Hort.

As they navigate the dark hallway to the storage room, Tedros clears his throat.

“You, hm, need any help?” he offers, though he is already there.

“What, from _you?_ ” Agatha snickers, placing her hand just above his head in mockery.

“We’re the same height,” he frowns, bumping into her side.

“Not when I have _these_ on we’re not,” she laughs, gesturing to the chunky boots, but allows him to accompany her anyway.

For anyone who might be interested: Tedros loses the homecoming crown to a senior a few hours later, but he’s not really that upset about it, as it grants him not _one_ , but _two,_ dances with a local vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Enemies to lovers’ is such a great dynamic, but honestly, ‘friends to lovers’ just hits differently for me. It’s the yearning and the pinning, I guess. Is that just me, or is anyone else like this?


	4. swimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Another day, another round of fluff!  
> I'm really happy with all the love this story is getting, seriously, you guys are amazing, please keep validating me, I'm addicted to that stuff!

(March 25th, 2018) 

“Are you sure your father won’t mind?” Agatha asks, gingerly dipping her legs into the indoor pool, feeling a bit out of place in the spacious room.

She knew that Tedros would be more than happy to have her, but Arthur had always been a mystery to her. Agatha had met the man a few times over the course of her relationship with his son, and awkwardness aside, he seemed like a normal dude trying his best, struggling with being a single parent while managing a multimillion dollar company. Not _good,_ but like, not _the worst?_

But then Agatha remembered that his A+ parenting skills were the reason why Tedros had to go to therapy sessions every two weeks and suddenly any sympathy she felt towards Mr. Pendragon was gone. 

“I mean, you’re here more often than he is these days, so I don’t think he has any right to complain,” Tedros points out, **swimming** towards her, disappearing underwater just in time to miss the water she splashes his way. He emerges near the edge, continuing to defend his argument. “At this point, the house is more _yours_ than _his._ ”

“I certainly hope not,” she deadpans, “I’ve seen how many lights you _forget_ to turn off. Nevermind the stuff you _can’t_ turn off. Your electricity bill must be a nightmare.”

“You know, I think you’re the first person to ever say _that_ to being offered a mansion.”

“Can you focus?” She glares. “I’m being serious, jerk.”

“And so am I,” he insists, propping his head on his arms on the border, right next to her, his hair dripping all over the floor as he looked up at her, “you can stay here for as long as you want. In fact, you could-”

“I just need somewhere to crash until they fix the gas leak in the building, Tedros,” Agatha cuts him off before he can get any ideas, “then I’m going back to the dorm.”

Honestly, despite the fact that she had been spending most of her free weekends at the Pendragon mansion with her boyfriend, she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel completely at ease there, even if Arthur was rarely home at all. Everything felt too big, too fancy, too… soulless. It wasn’t as bad when Tedros was around, but more than once Agatha had woken up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and been completely creeped out by the sheer aura of the place.

And that was coming from a girl who had lived next to a _graveyard_ for her entire childhood.

Not to mention the amount of security cameras and staff. The first time she stayed over she even made Tedros _prove_ to her that his bedroom was soundproofed before she let him get anywhere near her, terrified that someone would hear them. He thought it was awfully funny and teased her relentlessly for it, but did humor her, shouting at the top of his lungs as she paced around in the hallway.

(It was indeed soundproof, which Agatha is both impressed and exasperated by.)

“But I’ll miss you,” he teases, moving to rest his cheek on her thigh, his hands wrapping around her legs underwater.

“Oh, you poor baby,” Agatha mocks, running her fingers through his wet locks as she rolled her eyes. “You see me nearly everyday. My roommates are contemplating getting you your own key since you’re there all the time anyway.”

“Please do,” Tedros complains half-heartedly, his laugh muffled by her skin, “they always look so disappointed when they hear the doorbell, open the door and it’s just _me_ and not the delivery pizza girl.” 

“Like that’s a first for you?” She laughs. “Has double dating with Hester and Anadil taught you nothing...?”

He groans, shifting in her lap to have her massage his scalp more forcefully, almost as if to drive away the memory.

“Do all lesbians hate me or just the ones you’re friends with?”

“Hard to tell,” Agatha smiled, “that delivery pizza girl is super cute though, if I was expecting _her_ and got _you_ instead, I’d be disappointed too.”

“As if someone could ever be cuter than me,” Tedros bites her thigh, resulting in her yelping and pushing him away. He barks a laugh, retreating back into the pool, making sure to splash some water her way with his legs as he swimmed gracefully towards the other end, like he had done a thousand times before.

Even if Camelot University had a fantastic pool, her boyfriend more often than not prefered to train at home. It did get him in trouble with the coach during freshman year, but honestly, in the end, there wasn’t much he could do, as it didn’t affect Tedros’ performance. And well, if Agatha were a swimming prodigy and had enough money to maintain a _massive indoor pool_ at her _mansion,_ she would prefer to train at home too.

While Tedros’ grades weren’t really the best reflection of his discipline (as he barely managed to keep them off the red, with a lot of tutoring and suffering from her part), it was undeniable that he had a steely resolve when it came to swimming. It showed in the flawless way he moved across the water, in the perfect technique of his motions and in his control over his own body. It was nice to see him in his element, doing something he was clearly so passionate about.

Observing him quietly, she can tell Tedros is purposefully showing off by the way he keeps glancing her way, to make sure he has her full attention, splashing loudly in protest if he noticed Agatha’s gaze wandering.

(She rolls her eyes when he disappears underwater to make a turn, biting back an amused smile. _Brat._ )

After a few rounds going back and forth, he swims to her once again.

“Seriously though, my dad won’t mind,” Tedros persists, his tone leaving no room for argument, “this house is _too big,_ sometimes I can go for days without knowing he’s home. You’re my girlfriend, if you need a place to stay, you can stay here.”

“Fine,” Agatha relents, leaning back into her hands. “At least I already have some stuff here.”

“See?” He beams at her. “Besides, I’m pretty sure my dad won’t be back until late april.”

“I like how you said something like that a few weeks ago and then I ran into him in the living room,” she protested, eyeing him with distrust.

“I forgot that Merlin told me he was coming home a few days earlier that time,” Tedros’ smile turns sheepish, “but at least you were dressed...?”

Agatha aggressively splashes more water in his general direction, this time managing to hit him square in the face. The boy lifts his hands in surrender, apologizing between laughs, not looking sorry at all. She splashes him some more until he disappears underwater, approaching her by pulling lightly on her ankle.

When he breaks into the surface again, he reaches for her hand:

“C’mon, you’re gonna get cold there soon, the water’s just right,” Tedros invites her.

Agatha sighs, glancing at the pool. She lets go of his hand to dive in at once, like he showed her a few times, only to go back up battering her wet hair away from her face, having it cling to her skin.

Her boyfriend swims towards her with a chuckle, pushing her hair behind her ear, one of his hands going to her hip to pull her into his space, placing a chaste kiss on her lips once she manages to slick it all back.

Resting his forehead against hers, he breathes:

_“We should move in together.”_

“Tedros-” she frowns, closing her eyes, placing her hands on his chest, “you kn-”

“Not _right now,_ ” he interrupts, “ _after we graduate._ For now, you’re only staying for a few days, but after we graduate we should get a place together.”

“What, like an apartment?” Agatha whispers against his lips.

“Yeah,” he replies softly as he traced her spine. “One of those with the tiny balconies, though. And it needs to have a window seat somewhere. Also, a nice indoor pool.”

She smiles, caressing his jaw.

“I see you are a man of priorities. Sounds like a plan to me,” she says before kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is very loosely inspired by siren!Tedros from @pumpkinpaperweight's big bang fic, because I am so weak for him, help.


	5. magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> We are approaching dangerous waters of chapters I edited yesterday. Fun.  
> As of this moment, I still need to write 15 chapters and edit 25 (end me please).  
> Thank you once again for all your love, I love responding to the comments, makes me feel important kjskmdkjk

(June 2nd, 2015) 

Back at his house, in Camelot, there’s a huge sculpture on the entrance hall. It’s made out of white marble, about 12-feet-tall, and it showcases two big lions protecting a sword encased in a stone, the proverb _‘audentis Fortuna iuvat’_ engraved bellow, in cursive.

When he had been younger, Tedros once tried to climb it. He made it halfway up a lion before he slipped and fell, spraining his ankle. The doctor said he had been very lucky to not have broken at least one of his legs. He still remembers how his parents had argued over the incident, their loud voices disappearing in the distance as Lancelot took him into the library.

_“Why do we have the big cats?” Tedros had asked, pushing the ice pack away._

_“Lions, boy,” Lancelot chuckled in amusement, pressing more firmly, despite Tedros’ wince, “they’re lions.”_

_“Why do we have the big lions?”_

_“They represent your family.”_

_“So I’m a lion?”_

_“Oh definitely,” his father’s best friend snorted, “otherwise you would be in much worse shape. Did you notice the weird scribbles bellow the lions? It means ‘fortune favors those who dare’. You are one lucky little lion, brat.”_

Tedros finally finds her on the old fire escape on the east wing of the school building, which is _weird_ , but then again, so is Agatha. She hasn’t noticed his presence yet and for a split second he considers going back to the gym. 

_“Fortune favors those who dare,”_ he says softly, closing the door behind him, taking a deep breath to soothe his nerves. He promised himself he’d do it tonight, for better or for worse, and Tedros liked to think of himself as someone who kept his promises. 

The earthy smell of the forest beyond the academy’s gates fills his lungs, but the night air seems thick with **magic** , sending goosebumps down his spine. 

“That’s a very expensive dress you’ve got there,” he points out, announcing his presence, startling her, “not really the kind you’d use to sulk on a filthy fire escape.”

Agatha looks over her shoulder as he makes his way to the bottom of the stairs, careful not to step on her dress in the process. He cringes at the absurd amount of dust and dirt gathered in the handrail alone, but takes a seat beside her on the second to last step nonetheless. 

The fact that he does so while wearing a tailored cream-colored suit, equally inadequate for such an activity and even more expensive, earns a curious look from her.

There was _something_ to be said about being three floors above the ground, on a dirty metal fire escape, during a full moon, with the girl you’ve been in love with for the past months (who was he trying to fool, _years_ ), he’ll admit. It was the last night of the school year, and some sappy romantic ballad played in the distance, almost as if they were in a movie.

If there was such a thing as a right time to ask someone a question, that would be it, but he still wishes he had done this on any other night but this one. 

It wasn’t as if he had a shortage of opportunities to do so. But he had postponed it, time and time again, and now it was either doing it tonight or postponing it for another three months.

They stay there in silence, watching the moon for yet another corny love song, until he speaks again:

“So, got lost on your way to the ball, princess?”

It’s a terrible joke. 

It makes the corner of her lips twitch anyway.

“Oh no, I just… left early, I guess,” she replies, fiddling with the golden bracelet on her wrist.

“Before even walking in?” Tedros props his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“I did walk in for, like, 0.5 seconds,” Agatha says. “You know me: I always leave the party early. Remember homecoming? I left after an hour.”

“Yeah, but at least I still got to dance with you that night,” he responds fondly, the memory playing behind his eyes, “even if you left immediately after. Why did you leave?” 

He can’t tell if he’s asking about the spring formal tonight or about homecoming all those months ago. Maybe both.

“I wasn’t even going to stay for the formal,” she confesses, looking at perfectly manicured nails with something between irritation and sadness, picking at the polish. “I bought my train ticket weeks in advance and told my mom I’d be home by saturday afternoon.”

“But then you changed your mind?”

Agatha nods shortly, still lost in thought.

“It was a bit of a last minute decision.”

“This doesn’t look like a last minute dress,” Tedros raises his brows, testing the softness of the fabric of her full skirt between his fingers.

It feels heavy, the richness of the blue enhancing her skintone. The golden details in the bodice and outer layer of the skirt made for a stunning image that, when added to an elegant up-do and a full-face of makeup, made Agatha resemble some sort of angel.

Somehow, Tedros felt like the look both _suited her well_ and _didn’t suit her at all_. It was unsettling and he much prefered her vampire outfit from the last dance. He had a feeling she probably had a similar opinion.

It would be a lie to say she didn’t look gorgeous in the dress, though.

“That would be because it isn’t,” she lets out a humorless laugh, “Sophie picked it for me, for last year’s spring formal. We went to at least ten stores and she made me try every single dress they had on my size before we agreed on this one.” Agatha shifts her leg, making the golden beads and threads sparkle under the moonlight. “Beautiful, right?”

“You are,” he whispers bluntly.

This is where Tedros usually draws the line.

 _“You are,”_ he repeats. Clearer, louder.

His heartbeat is running out of control, banging loudly on his ears, his brain screaming in panic and all his blood seems to be rushing to his cheeks. But he stays firm. No take-backs, no making-it-into-a-joke, no apologizing. He said what he said and he meant it.

Tedros flirts _playfully_ with all of his friends.

But he hasn’t thought of Agatha as _‘just a friend’_ for quite a long while. And it was time he treated her accordingly.

“I didn’t see you at last year’s formal,” he frowns. “You didn’t go.”

It’s not a question.

“I didn’t,” she confirms. “I didn’t feel like there was a reason for me to go. Just like there was no reason for me to go this year either.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Last minute decision, like I said.”

“Is that why you’re sulking out here?” He presses. “Having midnight regrets?”

Agatha feels the weight of his stare, struggling to meet his eyes. She doesn’t answer, and he can’t think of any time that habit of hers has ever infuriated him more.

“It’s not even 10pm, Tedr-”

“Would you have said 'yes'?”

“What?” she asks, though he has a lingering suspicion she knows exactly what he's talking about by the way her shoulders tense, her hands shifting in her lap.

Neither of them were particularly good liars.

“If I had had asked you to be my date for the formal tonight,” he explains, choosing his words very carefully, “would you have said 'yes'?”

For a torturous second, Tedros thinks she’s going to laugh at him. Maybe slap him. It’s hard to tell. He honestly doesn’t know which would be worse.

“Like a _friend_ thing?” Agatha searches his eyes.

 _She was giving him an out_ , he realizes. There is no way she doesn’t know what he meant, not while she was looking at him like _that._ One last chance to take it all back and laugh it off. 

_‘Fortune favors those who dare’,_ Lancelot’s words echo in the back of his mind.

“Like a _date_ thing,” he explains, ignoring the twisting knots in his throat, “as in, very much _not platonically_ at all.”

Agatha stares at him again, a million little wheels turning inside her brain, before she sighs and he realizes that they'd been both holding their breaths.

“Yes,” she admits, slowly slipping her hand into his.

It’s impossible to tell who leans in first, but soon enough they are a hair’s breadth away from each other, and all he can think about is how she’s wearing the same inviting red lipstick she wore at the homecoming dance. About how he had wished he'd kissed her _then,_ but even more urgently, about how much he wishes to kiss her _now…_

As usual, Agatha was already way ahead of him.

“Can I kiss you?” she whispers, her warm breath mingling with his and the goosebumps going up Tedros’ spine have nothing to do with the night air or its magic.

_There would be no going back from this._

Tedros wasted the entire year hesitating.

This time, he doesn’t hesitate at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously hope this turned out good, I've been staring at it for too long and now I can't tell.


	6. redecorating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~  
> We are officially late!  
> But at last we have arrived.  
> Hopefully y'all haven't given up on me yet?  
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and/or commented last chapter <3

(November 17th, 2023) 

“No.”

“But Agatha-”

“No.”

He pouts, the dark circles under his eyes amplifying his ‘kicked-puppy’ look.

“But they come in different colors!”

“Tedros, we don’t need _eight_ full sets of glass containers. I don’t care if they’re in different colors,” she explains with a frown, snatching the ones in his hands and placing them back on the kitchen island, next to the rest. At this rate, this forced ‘ **redecorating** ’ would take the entire weekend. “We only have room for three sets. I’m giving one to Sophie and we’re getting rid of the rest, along with the old ones.”

“We are not giving our new fancy glass tupperware to Sophie!” He opposes, pulling the containers towards him, practically cradling them in his arms.

“Why not?” Agatha tries not to roll her eyes, lifting a brow.

“...I’m attached to them.”

“They’re not even out of the box.”

“...Why does she need them anyway?” Tedros changes the subject, tearing open the boxes containing the blue-lidded ones and neatly pilling them up in the cupboard, like one would on a shop window. He takes a step back, making a frame with his fingers. “Should we pair it with the white or the black ones?”

“Black,” Agatha pushes the boxes in his direction, glaring at him with sleep-deprived brown eyes. “We’ve been living together for two years. She’s getting her first apartment on her own. Don’t be a jerk.”

Tedros sighs, a bit embarrassed, yawning as he examined the remaining colors.

“Fine. She can have the pink ones. They don’t go with the new plates anyway.”

 _“Thank you,”_ she says, setting the pink boxes aside before going around the island to wrap her arms around his waist from behind. “You still need to get rid of the rest, though.”

“Agatha,” he protests, pulling on her arms to trap her against his muscular back, “c’mon, love, please.”

“...You are a ridiculous man. What are you even going to do with all those glass containers, Tedros Pendragon?”

He tightens his grip slightly, his warm laugh drawing her own, breaking her façade.

“I’m now officially _your_ ridiculous man, you should have thought about that before signing a contract with the government agreeing to put up with me for the rest of your life.”

“Damn, at least you came with tax benefits,” Agatha kisses his neck, burying her nose there. “...Fine, you can keep _four_ , but only if you can make them all fit inside the cupboard.”

She can’t see it, but she knows her husband has that annoying smug grin on his face. She bites him, making him yelp and pull on her arm.

Tedros brings one of her hands to his lips, kissing her wrist in appreciation, releasing her to choose his containers carefully, allowing her to move some more boxes of their old stuff to the pile of random house items on top of their dining table.

She goes to their living room, scanning for any more kitchen-related items. Just as she is about to sigh in relief that least they had gotten that part out of the way, Agatha spots a box under the sofa.

“Okay, what is up all these glass containers?” Agatha asks, placing a stray container, a grey one, on the kitchen island. “Do people think we’re gonna stock up food for the winter? We already owned glass tupperware!”

“I told you we should have made a list,” he points out, trying to not knock over the carefully curated glass tower he was building inside the cupboard, “people see the word ‘wedding’ on the invitation and think of domestic-ish house stuff for gifts.”

“Yeah, but, like, everyone knew that we’ve been living together. For two years. We had people over multiple times. If I had known they'd send me free fancy glass tupperware when I got married, I’d have married you as soon as we moved in.”

“...I did try to convince you,” Tedros smiles cheekily at her, once he was satisfied with his decoration.

“You did,” Agatha smiles back.

“Are we at least done with kitchen stuff?” He asks, pulling her to him, tucking her against his chest. “Please say yes.”

She places her hands on his arms, sliding them up his shoulders, digging into tense muscle, his head bowing forward with a pleased sigh.

“There’s still some more kitchen supplies at the office. Along with some other bed and bathroom items, a ton of decorations for the living room, some actual normal gifts that are, like, not random or weird or tupperware, and a lot of electrodomestics outside, which I presume counts as ‘kitchen stuff’,” she lists. 

Her husband groans softly in protest, looking at her with tired eyes, hugging her tighter.

As someone who had also arrived home after a thirteen-hour-long flight last night, Agatha shared the feeling. Neither of them slept well on the plane and she had been dreaming of the two days of rest they’d get once they arrived back at their apartment in Camelot, before returning to their normal work schedule, after spending a month abroad for their honeymoon.

Agatha did not expect their front door to be blocked by what seemed like at least two-thousand boxes of various shapes, sizes and colors. Quite honestly, she had forgotten all about the wedding gifts. And while last night they were too exhausted to deal with them beyond moving them out of the way to get inside, they had to sort them out as soon as possible to avoid accidentally missing item-return deadlines.

The task sounded especially hellish once you considered they hadn’t even unpacked yet and had basically no food, only crackers and some leftover energy drinks from before they left.

“What are we even going to do with that high tech fridge Bettina sent us? I don’t understand how it works or why does it look so cool, but I kinda wanna keep it,” Agatha admits. “You rich people are something else entirely.”

Tedros doesn’t answer her, too busy placing feather light kisses on her throat as he walked her backwards towards the counter. She indulges him, tilting her head with a breathless laugh before pulling him by his jaw to place a kiss on his lips.

“Think we could get away with taking a nap for a few hours before diving back into wedding-gift hell?” Agatha suggests, nosing along his ear.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he whispers in a conspiratory tone. Tedros laces theirs hands together, adjusting the golden band on her finger ever so slightly with his other hand, before bringing it to his lips, placing a loving kiss to her knuckles. “Ready when you are, Mrs. Pendragon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am all about that fancy glass tupperware, let me tell you.  
> I don't know why, I just really like them, dnsjdnkdnkas


	7. gardening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,  
> I’m back with more chapters of plotless-sweet-fluffy content. As for my delay, I ask you to please check the end notes on this chapter.  
> Thank you so much to everyone who dm-ed me, either on insta or on tumblr to check on me or to praise my work. You guys are very sweet and it really warms my heart that you cared to do that. To everyone who commented, left kudos or bookmarked: I’m so very grateful for your love and support, I really really am, you always make my day. Thank you <3

(April 30th, 2021)

“Agatha, c’mon, look, it has those **gardening** -window-thingies!” Tedros exclaims from somewhere behind her. His voice echoes in the empty room, bouncing off the walls easily, probably due to the lack of carpet and curtains.

“I know,” she acknowledges, biting back an amused smirk, “you’ve said so three times already.”

“Well, yes,” her boyfriend responds, “but they’re in the _kitchen_ windows too. Just like the ones at your mother’s house.”

She allows Tedros to drag her by the wrist towards the kitchen, in all of its bare glory. He proudly gestures towards the gardening boxes on the outside part of the window sills, not unlike a gameshow host.

“These are a bit fancier than my mother’s,” she snickers, noticing the elaborate decorative carvings on the window boxes, recalling how Callis had pretty much taped two-dollar plastic pots to the window railings of her childhood home to cultivate her medicinal plants, “but they should do just fine. What do you plan on planting here?”

“I feel like these should be for herbs, since the sun is not as strong here?” he observes, drawing on his nearly nonexistent knowledge of how plants worked, most of which came from spending a few weeks of the prior summer at Galvadon.

“What kind?” Agatha crosses her arms, backing away from the window. “I know some stuff about herbs. Which ones do you want?”

“God, anything but lavander.”

Her hissy laugh echoes way too loudly in the empty room, followed by Tedros' warm chuckle, one that told her he was only _partly_ kidding.

"Why not?" She asks innocently once she regains her breath.

"What, are we getting an ouija board and sacrificing a couple of cucumbers to summon her too?" He glares at her, half-heartdly.

Agatha cackles.

“Honeysuckle for the balconies in the living room, I suppose?”

“Yes," he pouts.

“Is that even allowed?” She lifts a brow. “Pretty sure you shouldn’t grow honeysuckle anywhere near curious rowdy children.”

Tedros rolls his eyes, a brush creeping up his cheeks.

“You think you’re funny. You’re not. I _know_ the berries aren’t edible, okay?”

“I was talking about the four kids with that couple that we met in the elevator. There's a playground in the back lawn, remember?” She smiles, pinching his cheek before Tedros pushes her hand away. “But good to know you recognize your status as a curious rowdy man-child.” Agatha drapes one arm over his shoulder, going onto her tiptoes to gain an extra inch on him. “Some of them might even be your height.”

“Hello, this 911?” he mocks, mimicking a phone with his thumb and pinky finger, whilst maintaining eye-contact with her. “My girlfriend is being very mean to me, make it stop.”

She kisses his cheek with snicker, hopping onto the kitchen counter.

“For real, though, I can help you with the herbs, but if you want honeysuckle, maybe we should try a place with a bigger balcony. Like that one we saw last week, the one with the disproporcional bathrooms.”

“Nah, I can live without it,” he shrugs, taking a seat beside her before sliding across the stone, lying down shamelessly on the counter, placing his head on her lap. “Let’s just get one of those home incenses or something. I don’t even like plants.”

“You know, if the guy comes back and sees you chilling on my lap, on top of his kitchen counter, we’ll probably have to pay some sort of damage fee,” Agatha warns, though she herself doesn’t move, softly massaging his scalp, feeling the soft golden curls between her fingers.

“I can’t help it, _it’s free real estate,_ ” Tedros closes his eyes, leaning into her touch, shifting to get comfortable on her legs. “Besides, it’s gonna be _our_ kitchen counter soon enough anyway,” 

“You _really_ like this one,” Agatha says, taking a moment to look around the empty apartment. It’s not as much of a question as it is a constatation. 

“Is it obvious?” he smiles.

“Very much,” she replies, eyeing him curiously as she stops petting his hair. His eyes open, with a low protest whine. “Why though?”

“What you mean ‘why’?” He gestures with his arms to illustrate his argument, careful to not accidentally hit her in the face. “It’s perfect. It matches our needs-list well enough _and_ it’s in our price range _and_ it’s available for us to move in right away. It even has the gardening-thingies I told you about and-”

“And you ‘don’t even like plants’,” she points out, only to be ignored as he ranted about every detail the owner had told them five minutes prior, during the apartment tour.

“...And I know we still have some more visits scheduled, but honestly, I like this one,” Tedros concludes his TedTalk. _“It’s perfect.”_

Agatha is not convinced.

“We’ve been apartment hunting for a few weeks now. Plenty matched the list. Some even had big balconies for the plants you don’t even like. You still didn’t fancy any of them." She crosses her arms. “What is it about this one that has you so _smitten?_ ”

“I liked the one with the infinity pool,” Tedros protests, using her shoulder as leverage to pull himself into a sitting position,“but this one is something else entirely. I just have a good feeling. You don’t like it?”

“I like it, I guess,” she responds vaguely, though she could already picture where they’d place the big sofa (the one that her boyfriend had been nagging her for weeks to just leave behind, but they both knew she wouldn’t). “I liked most of the apartments we’ve been to so far.”

“That’s because you have _no taste,_ ” he teases, nuzzling her neck.

“I knew there was a reason for me to be dating _you_ ,” Agatha pushes him off the counter with a huff.

Her boyfriend pouts again, regaining his footing without much trouble, the mischievous gleam in his eyes sparkling as he took her hands into his.

“You’re so _mean,_ ” Tedros accuses, kissing the tip her nose, “I meant that you’re easy to please. If it has thick walls, an elevator and allows pets, you like it.”

“Fair enough,” she concedes, giving his hands a light squeeze. “But this one’s pool is not big enough for you to train and it’s not that close to the city center either.” 

“It’s still a pretty big one, though,” he argues, “and we are near the historic district. Way more aesthetic.”

“Tedros,” she squeezes more forcefully, “that pool is too small for you to train.”

“I know. It’s just- I’ve been…thinking,” he sighs, squeezing back, stepping closer between her knees before sliding his palms up her forearms, “I don’t know if I wanna keep competing after college. I thought… maybe retiring? I told you that my dad really wants me to get more involved in the company. I wouldn’t have as much free time to train as I do now anyway. And if I really wanted to, I can always swing by the mansion.”

Agatha tugs on his waist, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Is that what _you_ want?”

“I don’t know?” His doubt palpable even when muffled by her hair. “I’ve been talking to my therapist about it. I liked working there before, as an intern, and it’s not like I’d have to quit swimming forever. It would still be my hobby.” He pauses. “ _‘Hobby’_ is such a grown-up word. It’s only been what, three, four, years since we were 19?”

“And now we’re, like, _adults,_ ” she completes, slight horror lost on his shirt.

“At least you’ve still got medical school; I’m getting a job. _Me!_ I’m getting a job-,” Tedros complains, crushing her further onto his chest. “Agatha, _I’m getting a job,_ what the f-”

“I know-”

“It’s so-”

“Weird?”

“Yeah.”

She uses one hand to gently push him into easing up his grip, using the other to guide him into looking at her, locking her gaze on his.

“We’re gonna be fine,” she smiles. “We’ve got this.”

“We’ve got this,” Tedros parrots back to her, his shoulders relaxing, burying his face on her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends and internet folk,  
> I’m really sorry for the delay. I just couldn’t find a way to get this chapter as I wanted. Even now, I still feel like the tone clashes with the previous ones, and I apologize if it feels a bit stiff. I always make a ton of jokes when I feel like this, but honestly, I've been kinda down and I just really didn’t want it to show in my work.  
> My uni will be back next week (back-ish, we’re gonna have online classes), it’s been very chaotic and last week was… overall not a fun time for me. I just really needed to take some time to breathe.  
> I’m working on updating my writing-schedule and the only way I can know if it’s truly gonna work is the good ol’ trial and error, so once I find something that works for me, I’ll probably make a post on insta about it. Until then, expect random updates whenever. I know it’s frustrating but please don't give up on this project just yet.


	8. genderbend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!  
> First things first, I'd like to thank you for all your support and for being so understanding. It really means a lot and I wish I could hug each and every one of you for being so sweet and lovely. Truly, thank you so much <3  
> Now, as for our topic of today, I wasn't sure what to do with this prompt, especially because genderbends can get real problematic real fast. Is it okay in this fandom, given we already have Edgar, Essa and Filip? As a cis woman, I don't think it's my place to say. If you give it a search you can find other places to educate yourself on the matter, way better than I could tell you in a small author's note.  
> The intent of this story is to be all about the fluff, so I tried my best to take a very loose interpretation of the prompt, for I wouldn't want for any of my readers to feel like this isn't a safe place for them.  
> Also, on the topic of problematic stuff, this chapter contains underage drinking. Please, don't take this as an endorsement, but if you're going to drink (underage or not), please be safe, consume in moderation, don't drive and be aware of your surroundings.  
> Oh, wow, this note got kinda dark, hm.

(February 2nd, 2014) 

“Do you ever wonder, like, what your life would have looked like if you weren’t born a girl?”

Agatha turns her head away from the metal structure above them to look at the blonde boy sprawled on her lap, gazing up at her.

Tedros was looking a bit better than he did fifteen minutes ago, but there’s only so much dignity one could have when too drunk to stand (or to sit straight for the matter). After he tried to strip his shirt off for the third time, Chaddick had called for Agatha to intervene, in hopes she could babysit him for the rest of the unofficial post-exams party.

To which she agreed, but still wasn’t very happy about.

Dragging Tedros behind the stands of the school’s old abandoned gym (the current secret party location) had been the hardest part, especially as he had all but thrown himself into her arms, hanging onto her shoulder like his legs had been turned into jelly. 

She got him a cup of water and made him eat some sweets, maneuvering him to lie down with his head elevated by his (now folded) jacket. He had yet to pass out or vomit, so she was counting it as a win. Tedros then proceeded to talk her ear off, which Agatha will admit to not really minding, humoring whatever nonsense he said, including when he begged her to let him use her lap as a pillow. 

Hopefully her friend would at least be coherent enough to be able to evade the teachers once they inevitably crashed the party in an hour (or two, if they were very lucky).

“Like if I were a trans girl or like in one of those **genderbend** drawings, like, if I were a boy?” Agatha asks, casually leaning back, trying to have the angle of the conversation be less awkward.

“Both, I guess,” he explains, hazy blue eyes shining her way.

“You’re so drunk,” she tells him for what might have been the tenth time that night.

“Answer the question.”

“If I were a trans girl... I don’t think much would change, like, about me? I’d still be a girl. Probably would have had a harder time growing up, though.”

Tedros nods.

“Yara told me some stuff about it once… Like, personal stuff. It’s hard.”

“Yeah,” Agatha agrees.

“It shouldn’t be. I wish it wasn’t.”

She smiles at him, running her fingers through his messy blond curls. His eyes close and he leans into her hand with a sigh, a bit like Reaper sometimes did back home. Agatha’s neck flushes red and she tries to disantagle her hand away, only for Tedros to grab her wrist to keep it in place, his eyes opening in protest.

“No,” he murmurs, tugging against her until she gave in. “Stay. I like it when you stay with me, Agatha.”

Then he placed a long kiss on her palm, before pushing it back into his hair, asking for her to continue to massage his scalp.

 _He’s drunk,_ she is quick to justify, her face burning bright red, _it’s just Tedros, it doesn’t mean anything, don’t think too much about it._

Except she was already thinking too much about it.

Agatha honestly couldn’t find the words to describe just how nerve-wrecking being friends with Tedros could be. She tended to pride herself on being friends with all kinds of people, but something about him always caught her by surprise, everytime. No matter how comfortable she grew around him, every once in a while they’d get to this point, leaning on the very edge of _something,_ only to never really go anywhere, like it never happened at all.

It drove her up the wall.

 _Unresolved romantic tension,_ Sophie had mocked, the one time she asked for advice on it. 

Agatha had shoved a pillow at her face for it. _As if._

“...But what if you were a boy?” Tedros persists, oblivious to the damage he had just done on her, closing his eyes once again. “What would your boy name be?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you chose one for me?”

He seems deep in thought and for a few seconds, she wonders if he fell asleep.

“Edgar.”

“Edgar?” Agatha questions.

“Edgar,” he insists, before pouting, “you don’t like it?”

“I like it,” she ressures him softly, “I’m just curious. Why that one?”

“It fits your aesthetic,” Tedros justifies, sparkling blue meeting dark brown. “And it sounds kinda fancy, just like your name.”

She doesn’t reply, though she shows her thanks by making sure to keep playing with his hair just how he seemed to like.

“You’re so drunk.”

“I’m not,” he protests. “Maybe we would have been roommates, Edgar and I.”

“I don’t think so,” Agatha teases, “I mean, Sophie convinced me to come study here with her. If I were a boy, we wouldn’t have become friends, so I wouldn’t have attended this school-”

“And I wouldn’t have met you,” he interrupts with a frown.

“And you wouldn’t have met me,” Agatha confirms, easing up his expression by letting her fingers trace the lines in his forehead, leaning over him.

“I’m glad you’re not a boy then, I like having you in my life. I’m very happy I met you.”

The dumb grin that makes its way onto her face is absolutely embarrassing and if Tedros were to remember this conversation, she’ll deny it ever happened.

“I’m happy I met you too.”

He squints up a her, wrapping a lock of her hair that was dangling near his face around his finger, before moving up to touch her face.

“You would have been hot as boy too, I think. Your jaw is super sharp and your eyes are so pretty,” Tedros flirts, charming smirk in place as he traced her jaw, taking advantage of her shock to touch her lips, “and you’ve got really inviting lips. If you were a boy who liked boys, I’d wish you were my boyfriend.”

Her heart speeds up, just as a loose, drunk laugh, escapes him and he settles further into her lap, withdrawing his hand.

_Tedros was going to be the death of her._

“I think we need to get you some more water,” she tries to push him away, only to have him cling to her leg, bunching up her jeans. “C’mon, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“No,” he repeats, “stay.”

“Tedros-”

“I think I like you as a girl better. You know, sometimes I wish you were my girlfriend.”

Agatha chokes, her voice strained as she dares ask:

“Like a girl who is your friend?”

The silence between them is filled with some weird trap song that she can’t name and the buzz of conversation on the other side of the stands, loud and lively. There’s something behind his dazed eyes, but she can’t be sure. For the first time tonight, Tedros is completely serious.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “like that.”

_That’s not what your face is saying._

She’s not sure for how long they stay in silence, but the moment is shattered once Chaddick puts a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t even noticed him approach.

“Hey, you alright?” Agatha nods, and he continues: “Castor is getting here soon. Hester told me to warn you not to use the second floor hallway on your way back. Thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“No problem,” she replies, still a bit out of it, prompting Tedros to sit up, dusting off her pants as she stands, “see you around.”

Just before she slips out of earshot, she hears:

“Chaddick, you agree with me right? Edgar would be hot too-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, this chapter is loosely based on an actual conversation I had at a party once. Yes, I was Tedros. Please don't be Tedros, drink in moderation, I beg you.  
> For those of you whom are also fans of my 'first and always' fic, as I told you guys on instagram, as soon as I post chapter 10, I'll take some time off CMG to write the sequel to that fic. Again, do not worry, slowly but surely, I'll get everything done.


	9. wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!  
> Y'all remember how I said nothing bad happens ever right.  
> Hm.  
> This now will contain some hurt/confort too, I guess, because I have no self-control. Mostly confort though, I am no monster.  
> As usual, thank you very much for leaving comments/leaving kudos/bookmarking, it really makes me happy to see you like the story and to hear your thoughts!

(August 13th, 2022) 

“What do you think about setting a date?” Tedros mentions, seemingly casual as he twirls her past a middle aged couple, sending them a charming, reassuring smile whilst keeping Agatha from crashing into a table by leading her back into his arms in an effortless-looking motion. “For the **wedding** , I mean.”

From an outsider’s perspective, they looked perfectly normal, the laid-back executive director and heir of a multimillion dollar company leading his aloof med-student fianceé around the dance floor of his co-worker’s wedding reception.

But the others can’t feel how sweaty Tedros’ hands are. Neither can they discern the stress oozing off his body, or how dull and tired his eyes are.

He’s been like this for the entirety of their time there.

Agatha stares at him, trying to follow his lead as she struggled against the unstable sole of the medium-heeled shoe Sophie lent her a few years ago that she never returned, thankful that at least Tedros had enough ballroom muscle memory to carry them through. She searches his face for a clue as to where he was going with this, the two of them now transitioning into a much slower song as she waits for him to elaborate on the topic. He doesn’t.

“Hm, sure, I guess?” She replies as her reading of his expression came to inconclusiveness. 

Tedros pulls her closer, the sweaty hand that was gripping hers tightening, as if he was scared it might slip from his hold, despite the fact that this song did not require nearly as much motion coordination as the previous one.

“I was thinking, instead of a spring wedding, it could be a fall wedding,” he goes on, avoiding her eyes, looking somewhere past her, “I know we agreed to have it during spring before, but fall is your favorite season and you’re my favorite person and we met in fall, because of school, it’s like, symbolic and stuff, and it’d be good for traveling, we could go somewhere south and it will be spring there and since it’s not summer or winter it won’t be packed with tourists -”

“Tedros?”

“Yeah?”

“Slow down,” Agatha squeezes his shoulder, softly muttering to him: “breathe.”

His mouths closes shut, and he takes a moment to inhale deeply, then exhale, matching his breathing pattern to hers as she rubs his tense shoulder over his suit. She’s careful not to crumple the sharply pressed fabric, least the Camelot International executives find yet another reason to bother Tedros.

“Can we get away with seating down?” He asks, pulling her into a hug, burying his nose into her neck.

“Judging by how Mr. Pembershire keeps watching us, I think he’s coming for you the moment we leave the dance floor,” Agatha frowns, lifting a brow in defiance as she meets the older executive’s eye, snaking her arms around Tedros’ neck. “My feet are killing me.”

“I’d offer you a massage when we get home, but I think I’m gonna be so dead that you’ll just have to bear it,” he teases with a chaste kiss on her cheek, “but, we can always, you know, _leave early._ ” 

“Oh, I suddenly recall having a very important exam coming up on monday that I didn’t know about until right now,” Agatha dramatizes, keeping her expression neutral, prompting him back into a mock dancing stance, biting back a smirk, “geez, wouldn’t want me to set aside my academic life and career, would we?”

“Why, I’d never,” Tedros tightens his hold on her waist, nosing her skin, whispering huskily in her ear: “you look too good and smell too wonderful, what kind of fiancé would I be if I-”

“If you didn’t tell me why you had a change of heart about postponing the wedding and instead tried to distract me?” She drags her nails lightly on his nape, suppressing a laugh when he misses a step. “The kind who thinks he’s fooling me. What happened?”

He frowns at her, social mask slipping as he twirls her slowly in his arms, matching the instrumental, before locking the cordial smile back in place as he lets out a deep sigh:

“The press caught wind of my dad leaving the clinic today. So far, the PR department has been keeping it at bay, but Bettina predicts that the story is probably going to leak tomorrow morning anyway, and Pembershire says the stocks are most likely to drop soon after,” Tedros pauses and Agatha waits for him, following his movements. “I know I said I didn’t want to plan our wedding in the middle of this, but I was hoping that just announcing a date might be enough to diverge some attention from…” he trails off, “you know.”

Agatha knew.

Ever since Arthur Pendragon got diagnosed with esophagus cancer a few months prior, Tedros’ life, and hers, by consequence, had been thrown into chaos.

Between his long-gone mother reaching out, Merlin’s sudden absence, the power-hungry executives and the unstable relationship between Mr. Pendragon and his son (definitely not helped by the fact that he continues to drink despite, well, _everything_ ), they both agreed they were in no rush to get married.

“Sounds like a good move,” she compliments, swaying past the four receptionists as they giggled, watching the couple.

“Really?” Tedros steers her into a slight dip as the song comes to an end, followed by yet another instrumental Agatha wasn’t familiar with.

“Yeah. You already have a date in mind, right?”

“I do…” He nodded. “I thought you’d be more upset about this. Our wedding is supposed to be _our_ day and- 

“And it will still be our day. It doesn’t matter if everyone knows when, as long as they don’t know where too,” Agatha ressures. “Besides, all days are special when you’re with the right person. We could elope tomorrow and cause a media storm for all I care. As long as I’m with you.”

Tedros gives her an embarrassed, but genuine smile, twisting her around so she’d have her back to him, completely out of tune with the song. She presumes he’s probably blushing.

“You can’t just say stuff like that out of nowhere.”

She snorts.

“Says _you?_ ”

“Well, I’ve never said I wanted to elope with you to an island out loud,” he pauses, “wait.”

Agatha has to stifle her laughter with the fabric of her sleeve.

“If you wanted to get me alone, make me sign a contract and then drag me to a deserted island, all you had to do was ask,” she teases.

Tedros purposefully crushes her against his chest using his arm.

“I do quite like the concept of having you all to myself,” he moves the stray hairs from her hairstyle aside to nibble on her ear and she turns around, freeing herself from his hold before they went too far and scandalized the other guests further.

“I have a condition though.”

“Anything the lady wishes,” he mock bows, offering a hand to her. “Is it honeycake?” 

“Important celebrations require cake,” Agatha agrees, taking it. “Find a way to bring that to the island and we can stay there for as long as you want.”

“Sophie would kill us,” Tedros snickers. “If we eloped, I mean. You more than me, but _us_ , nonetheless. Hester too. Beatrix would hunt me down and skin me.” 

“Then I guess we’ll have to settle for whatever date you’ve been meaning to leak to the vultures. Which day did you choose for our ‘fall wedding’?”

He mumbles something inaudible.

“What?”

“October 14th.”

For a few seconds, Agatha doesn’t say anything.

“You are one sentimental man, aren’t you?” She smiles, leaning in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just-


	10. coffee shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends,  
> So, as I've mentioned before, after this one, I'll be taking some time to write the sequel to my other fic, but rest assured, the fluff shall return.  
> As usual, thank you for all your support, even though I've been taking forever to update. You're all so nice I just-  
> Anyway, here we go.

(September 27th, 2015) 

By the fourth time, Tedros is more than aware that he is pushing his luck. 

Very carefully, he brings their interlocked fingers to his lips and presses yet another kiss to her knuckles (lingering for way longer than he should’ve). He can tell Agatha is dangerously close to losing her patience with him, but she was so easy to fluster, he just couldn't help it, the redness on the back of her neck slipping to her the tip of her ear and-

With another annoyed warning glance, she pulls away her fingers, pointing out the lines between the letters, telling him to focus. It was… fair enough, Tedros supposes, but he misses the comfort of holding her hand already.

Ugh, should he tell her he liked to hold her hand? He could ask her to do that more often. It wouldn’t be weird… right? It’s just Agatha. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he'd ever said to her. They’ve been friends for years, she has heard him say stuff that was ten thousand times more embarrassing.

But... Agatha was his girlfriend now. Like, his actual girlfriend, not just a girl who was his friend. And she had such nice hands, so elegant, her fingers were long and thin and looked so delicate between his-

 _Perhaps it was for the better that she let go of his hand,_ he thinks as he feels his palms sweating.

Avoiding this had been the very reason why they’d chosen to meet up at a public location. A **coffee shop** to be more specific. They had tried the academy library once, but ended up getting… _side-tracked._

_(Mostly his fault.)_

But how was he supposed to focus? She was right beside him!

Was he being needy? 

He lets her explain the next few paragraphs of asymmetric something to him, trying his best to keep up with her, yet undoubtedly getting lost on the calming tone of her voice. Her words blend together in a steady melody and Tedros tries not to stare at her lips, focusing instead in drawing circles on the back of her hand, nodding along to her explanation.

Frankly, Tedros wasn’t sure how to deal with the fact that now he could kiss her anytime. Because she’s his girlfriend. And you get to kiss your girlfriend. Whenever. No reason required. God, it felt good to say it: _Agatha’s his girlfriend._

Said girlfriend slams the textbook shut, glaring at him, and he tunes back in to hear the end of her sentence:

“...and then Anadil and Chaddick stole all of Sophie’s pink dresses for their three-way wedding to Hort, I joined the circus with Millicent, and Hester was straight and you’re not just nodding along, _right?_ ”

He smiles sheepishly, stopping mid-nod.

“Tedros, if you’re not going to take this seriously,” she pulls herself up to reach for her coat on the chair in front of him, gathering her notes, mindful of his half-filled mug, “then I’m going back to the school. Don’t come crying to me tomorrow, after you _fail._ ”

Tedros grasps her wrist, pulling her back into her seat, leaning over to lock his arms around her.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he whispers in her ear, “I’ll be good.”

Agatha gives him a skeptical look.

“I’ll be on my best behavior from now on,” he insists, lifting a hand, as if to take a vow. “Teach me all about the C’s, the O’s, and the H’s, ma’am.”

His girlfriend rolls her eyes and Tedros lets go of her, sliding away with a pout, taking a sip from his hot chocolate. If nothing else was learned today, at least he found out about this place; they had served some delicious (if not slightly overpriced) hot chocolate.

“You know,” she starts, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “you could at least pretend to be worried, like the rest of us, mortals.”

“I’m _worried,_ ” he shrugs, “but it’s just a bit easier for me. No college is going to be impressed by my grades, even if I were to ace this chem test, but as long as I don’t do terribly at the national exam and keep up my timings at this season’s competitions, they’ll have to let me in. Advantages of being a rich dumb jock, I guess.” 

“Don’t,” Agatha hits his arm with a cloudy expression.

“Don’t what?” He pulls back defensively, placing his palms around the warm mug.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” she glares. “You’re not dumb, Tedros.”

“But-”

She glares at him once again, and while Tedros knows he is not the smartest, he knows very well when to shut his mouth.

“You’re not dumb. You just need some extra help. You could, however, _try a bit harder,_ instead of just giving up entirely based on the assumption that you’re ‘just dumb’.” Agatha opens her notebook at a specific page and shoves it in his arms. “C’mon, I came up with a mock quiz for you. Try to solve it.”

He inspects the questions, trying not to get too hung up on the fact that she wrote ‘for sunday’s date w/ tedros <3’ in a post-it, discreetly pocketing the note, ignoring the overwhelming wave of wanting to hold her in his arms for the rest of his life.

“Hm, can I at least consult the book?”

She sighs loudly, but hands him the textbook nonetheless.

Tedros gets a bit caught up -vaguely aware of where the answers were due to echoes of her explanation, navigating the block of text sufferingly- but not enough to not notice her getting up.

“Where are you going?”

“The tea’s good enough, but I wanna get something sweet,” Agatha points towards the counter.

The words come out of his mouth before he even realizes:

“You can have some of my chocolate if you want.”

She freezes, eyeing him carefully, and he feels his cheeks burn.

“Like, you don’t have to, I just thought you might like it, because it’s pretty good, but it’s kinda pricey and-”

“Thanks, Tedros,” Agatha smiles warmly at him before sitting back down, taking a few sips from his mug, right before it melted into a teasing smirk, noticing how he kept glancing at her.

By the fourth sip, he snatches back the chocolate.

“Liked it?” Tedros asks, presenting the mug, just out of her reach.

“Yeah,” she suppresses a laugh. “Could use some more.”

His face must have been funny because soon enough her hissy laugh fill his ears and Tedros finds himself laughing along, watching her eyes light up joyfully.

“They have a version that comes with marshmallows. We should get those next sunday,” he suggests, before gulping down whatever was left of the beverage.

He can taste some of Agatha’s chapstick on the edge of the mug, but then again, there were much worse tastes to have lingering on his lips.

“Oh,” she paused. “So, about next sunday… Can we reschedule to hang out after your training on saturday? Hester wants to do a tour through the NU campus and they only do those on sundays.”

“Sure, no problem,” he agrees after deciding he’d just move his post-practice work-out to sunday morning instead. “So, considering applying to NU?”

Agatha sighs tiredly and he uses her distraction to move closer to her again.

“I think so? I’ve got some extended family on my mom’s side at Netherwood. Anadil thinks they might be able to grant me a half-scholarship, but I don’t know. I’m thinking about applying to a bunch of places, just in case. I never even knew there were so many colleges out there.”

“Relax,” he reaches for her hand lacing their fingers together once more, squeezing in confort. “It’s good to keep your options open. I kinda wish I could do that. Pretty sure my family would disown me if I went anywhere that wasn’t Camelot.”

“That doesn’t sound very fair.”

Tedros shrugs, not meeting her gaze.

“I don’t really mind sticking close to home. I just wish I had the option-”

_Because I want to be wherever you are._

That’s not what he says. Instead:

“You know, you could come over during holiday season. My father’s friends with the dean. I could show you around Camelot’s campus if you want?”

There's a pause.

“I’ll talk to my mom about it and ask her,” Agatha agrees, squeezing his hand back, before pushing him towards his previous seating position. “Are you done with the quiz, mister?”

Tedros can only give her a nervous grin, lifting the notebook, with only two questions answered.

“Well, at least you got those right,” his girlfriend smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When in doubt, make it fluffy, am I right?


	11. sword fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, folks, hopefully this appears as published during October 14th.  
> I completely forgot about tagatha wedding day, so pls forgive me.  
> Things have been a bit too draining since uni started, but I didn't want to let this date go without at least trying to deliver something.  
> This one's not my favorite, but well, my new favorite thing is kate's fic, so god-like writting, basically.

(June 7th, 2017) 

Tedros isn’t surprised that the foil was still there after all these years.

The lightweight blade was covered in with a thick layer of dust, but otherwise intact. Part of him wanted to scold the mansion’s cleaning crew for failing to clean this spot, but considering that the loose floorboard was not only covered by a giant rug, but also located under his bed (and that only Tedros had known it was loose in the first place), he’d have to find another target to unleash his horrible mood onto.

He grabs it by the handle, not bothering to gather the rest of his, equally filthy, fencing equipment. It’s much lighter than he remembered it being, as well as much smaller, but Tedros supposes it’s because back when he had been nine the world had seemed much bigger.

Choosing a basic fencing stance and moving the blade feels both foreign and familiar. It’s entertaining and somewhat distracting, but somewhere in the back of his mind Lancelot tells him to 'watch his feet placement' with a mocking touch as he ruffles his hair and Tedros feels a dull pain on his chest, abandoning the foil to lie back in his bed.

To be fully honest, he hadn’t thought about **sword-fighting** in years.

As a child he’d been very athletically inclined, and while swimming had been his ultimate favorite sport, something about having his mother and Lancelot watching his fencing competitions and then taking him out for ice-cream made it just as fun as swimming.

Well, it had been a lot of fun, before they ran away together _without so much as a goodbye._

 _How many,_ Tedros wondered. How many of those days had been an excuse for them to see each other away from his father’s watchful eyes? How many times did they lie to him, pretending they cared about his performance? How many times had Lancelot been to their house under the excuse of practicing with Tedros, only to gaze longingly at Guinevere working in the garden?

The sight of the foil alone had made Tedros nauseous, so he’d dropped fencing completely, dedicating his time to swimming and other sports. It had been easy back then, to just replace one thing with another.

Somehow, he doubted that hiding all evidence of ever loving Agatha under his bed would allow him to replace her, let alone forget her.

Not that he actually wanted to.

Sometimes he wished he could, though.

They didn’t fight often. Well, not _fight_ fight, anyway.

It wasn’t unusual for them to have disagreements or arguments, of course. A big part of their dynamic was based off their constant bickering and different personalities. But actual big fights, those were rare.

Sword fighting was all about speed and agility. 

Fighting with Agatha? A test of patience.

He will admit, every single one of those rare times, he’d been the one to pick the fight in the first place. Not because he liked fighting (in fact, he hated fighting with Agatha because she had a tendency to usually be right) but because, well, he’d long since learned that if he didn’t pick them, Agatha wouldn’t.

And truly, Tedros would rather not be ghosted by his own girlfriend.

But now, after five days of silent treatment, he is pretty sure there was no winning on this one. If he hadn’t called her out, she would’ve still avoided him, and clearly, as he did call her out, she didn’t seem to want to talk to him either.

He wants to drive all the way to Shazabah and wants to ask all the hard questions that none of them wanted to voice. Wants to hold her in his arms, wants her to listen to him and wants for her choose him, because he always chose her. And if she couldn’t, he wanted her to be mean about it so he could at the very least be angry at her, spit out all kinds of hurtful things just so he could fill out this silence.

But he didn’t, because _what if this became their break-up?_

_He could not afford to lose her._

And over something so silly to top it off.

Out of the two of them, Tedros was the one who had people constantly all up in his face trying to get his attention. And yet, he was the one who got jealous more often. Not that Agatha never got jealous. Sometimes she did, but Tedros found it more... hm, _hot,_ than anything else really. 

There was nothing _hot_ about his jealousy over _Sophie,_ though.

He didn’t want to make Agatha choose between them. That would be crazy. Agatha had her own life, her own friends. Friends which he liked! He _liked_ Sophie! For the most part, anyway. Their two-week long relationship during freshmen year sure didn’t help, but they got along just fine as long as Agatha was there to play buffer.

 _But how many,_ Tedros wondered. How many more times was he going to be the second choice? How many times is he going to have to pretend that he understands, when he doesn’t? How many more times was Agatha going to drop everything because of Sophie?

 _“She needs me,”_ Agatha had snapped at him that night.

 _I need you more,_ he had wanted to scream.

Tedros might have ascended to _boy_ friend, but he was still having to compete with the _best_ friend.

He’s being childish. No need to call his therapist to tell him that.

Yet, was he wrong?

He had watched Agatha nearly tear her hair out for almost three weeks without a single word. His girlfriend had been in the middle of taking her _finals_ when Sophie decided that she wanted to suddenly get engaged to yet another shady rich guy she met at one of her parties. Tedros had watched Agatha stress over this, trying to talk Sophie out of it, trying to reason with her, staying up all night on the phone with her, seeing Tedros less and less, skipping meals, losing sleep-

And Sophie always did this! 

_“You’re not her mom,”_ he’d said, _"stop trying to take care of someone who's in another state. Get your life together!"_

Her blowing him off on friday had been the nail in the coffin. Tedros’s well aware that it wasn’t their official anniversary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t important. Riding out all the way to Shazabah to tell Sophie ‘yo, maybe not marry a stranger’ when they'd already made plans?

Carefully, he stands up and picks up the abandoned foil.

Would he have made a good fencer? Perhaps, could he have been better at it than at swimming? Had he kept training, had he decided to carry on, would things be different? Or would it really not have made a difference?

Impossible to tell.

With a sigh, Tedros knows what he needs to do.

The phone rings two times before she picks up.

“Hi. I miss you,” Agatha breathes before he has a chance to say anything. “I’m sorry. Can we talk?”

He smiles, setting the old blade aside onto his table as a weight lifts off his chest. Maybe he could look into getting some fencing lessons this summer.

“Hey. I miss you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this 'help me hold on to you (the remix)'? probs. It's late, I have class early in the morning, it's hard for me to tell. Why is this one angst, you wonder, Idk, guess my fluffy goodness well is dry today.  
> Hopefully next one shall be better.


	12. comforting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it is I, here to tell you I stress wrote this very chapter two times before I ended up with this version. This was not going to be the plot at all, but it was super angsty and dark before, and since this is 'color me golden' and not 'color me gray', we're back to being fluffy.  
> I do feel better after getting this done though. Have y'all, beautiful humans, read 'the otherness came (and I knew its name)' aka Kate's Never!Tedros fic? If not, go do that, I feel transformed, it was a cultural reset.  
> Anyway, let's do this:

(April 14th, 2013)

“Do you never clean this place? Ever?” Sophie asks, setting aside the magazine she’d been pretending to read for the last forty minutes.

“I do,” Agatha responds, fairly disinterested, sprawled on the top bunk bed, trying to decipher her own biology notes.

Perched in the bed near the door, Sophie huffs.

“I can’t even see that bed,” she points towards the clothing-covered bottom bunk bed before gasping in horror: “Aggie, please, don’t tell me those are your dirty socks from P.E.”

Agatha manages to decode an entire paragraph with some effort. Being left handed, her scribbles tended to smudge a lot. Perhaps she should consider ditching pens when it came to notes for Yuba's class. Back in Galvadon the teachers gave them a lot more time to write stuff down.

"Aggie!"

“You told me not to tell you,” she shrugs.

There are certain advantages to having an entire dorm to yourself, Agatha will admit. She has three beds to herself, a lot of empty storage, a quiet place to study when she doesn’t feel like going to the library, as well as the supreme right over decorative choices and maintenance.

She wasn’t good at dealing with people for long periods of time; living with Reena and Milicent would have been a nightmare. Thankfully, they decided to move out on the first day of school, even if they if only did so to avoid catching whatever it was they believed she had. Agatha prefered for people to be upfront about their ill feelings towards her, anyway. It saved her the trouble of actually trying to be agreeable.

The loneliness was familiar; **comforting** even.

“This is so unfair,” Sophie complains, turning her gaze to her, “you’re so… sloppy.”

“It’s an art form,” she replies. “The socks are there to symbolize the teen angst of our generation. _Expressionism_ or something like that.”

When Sophie doesn’t roll her eyes or makes a witty comeback, Agatha looks up from her notebooks.

For a while, the blonde doesn’t say anything, scanning Agatha with inquisitive green eyes, as if trying to read into her soul. Perhaps, she wasn’t talking about just the dormroom situation...

“If this is about the schedule thing, I alre-”

“Tedros and I broke up.”

_Oh?_

Surely, after nearly an entire year of dragging Agatha into her numerous schemes to win the boy over, she had expected Sophie to look a bit more… heartbroken over the end of their actual relationship. 

Some tears. Perhaps some rage. 

She just looked… _mildly annoyed._

Well, they had only been together for two weeks anyway. And according to Sophie, she and Tedros hadn't even kissed yet. Still, Agatha knew Tedros wasn’t the type to date just anyone. She had been wary when Sophie first stated her interest in him because of his reputation as a shameless flirt, but as the months went by she became rather… _worried_ for him. He was a sensitive, gentle soul underneath all that bravado and she knew Sophie could be… a bit _too much_ at times.

Yes, _worry,_ that’s exactly what it was.

Before Agatha can decide whether she should express her condolences or congratulate her, Sophie continues:

"You can go check up on him. If you want. He could use some comfort."

She has the distinct feeling that she’d just been caught. _But caught doing what exactly...?_

“Why would I wanna go check up on Tedros?”

A glint of _something_ hides bellow Sophie's surface blank expression and Agatha is sure she's missing a very important piece of information.

"You two are friends, aren't you?" She pronounced every word slowly, like one would to a child.

Were they? Well, they weren’t _not friends_. But-

"But you were my friend first."

Sophie waves her off, standing up from the bed, the smalls clicks of her - definitely not uniform-compliant - heels stifled by the carpet.

"Absolutely and don't you forget it. However, as you can see, I am just fine, if a bit disappointed. You should go see him, Aggie. Poor thing must be devastated. Imagine losing _me_ ; one can never recover from such a crushing loss."

Agatha frowns in confusion.

"What... But you-"

" _I_ have to go. Dean Lesso has been on my case about the mirror situation. _You_ have a boy to find," Sophie tells her. She’s half-way into the hallway before she adds:

"Good luck, darling."

An exasperated sigh leaves Agatha's lips once the door slams.

Doing damage control with her best friend's now _ex_ -boyfriend was not something she wanted to do. She had butted into Tedros and Sophie's weird _situationship_ way too much for way too long. Checking on him was most likely a bad idea.

And yet, she's already changing out of her pajamas and digging around the room for her clumps.

Agatha is very proud to say that, if nothing else, she is a good _friend_. She didn’t have many of those but she cherished each and every one of them. 

Including Tedros. Which is why she’s going to see if he’s alright. _No ulterior reasons whatsoever._

It still feels a bit weird to think of him as a _friend._ But really, if Agatha wasn't Tedros' friend, then no one was.

As usual, finding him is not very hard.

Tedros is seated on the sill of the big window at the chem lab, facing the elaborate garden of the academy. Well, 'seated' was a rather generous description. With a leg stretched out, shoulders tense and one arm folded behind his head, he seemed to be posing for a portrait rather than resting. 

He looks lost in thought, but not particularly sad. _Good._

Agatha decides to announce her presence.

"Heard Sophie dumped you."

He flinches in surprise, but doesn't turn around to face her. It occurs to her she wasn’t very good at comforting people.

“Is that what she said?” Tedros mumbles, amused.

“Is that what happend?” Agatha lifts a brow, taking a seat beside him. He finally looks at her, folding back his leg and straightening his posture, making some room for her.

Both questions go unanswered and they resort to watching the view in silence, the sun stretching across the sky and down towards the dark forest, blue and white making way to pinks and oranges.

“You sure are taking your sweet time to beat me up,” he blurts suddenly.

Agatha’s lips twitch involuntarily and she has to actively keep them from curling upwards.

“Well, I was planning on giving you the shovel talk sometime next week, so I suppose I can’t kill you, as you didn’t get the note warning. I could push you into the pool again if you want, though.”

Tedros’ laughter rings clear in her ears, as warm as a mug of hot chocolate.

She steals a glance out of the corner of her eye. The light has painted pretty patterns across his skin, golden eyelashes caressing his cheeks. Blue eyes open to give her a fond look and he reaches over to gently place his hand over hers.

“You’re a good friend, Agatha.”

She has half a mind to pull her hand away, but decides to, _just this once,_ allow him to have his way. Agatha is not sure if she should assume, so she doesn’t, as she had learned that Tedros’ had a tendency to do and say the weirdest things from time to time.

For the next two hours, they keep their eyes in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agatha and Sophie are both lefties, fight me (but don't, because I can't remeber if it's ever mentioned in the books and I do not have the will power to check).


	13. winter fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!  
> Hm, I have,,, no explanation for this.  
> Hopefully y'all like it.

(December 28th, 2016) 

Tedros flinches in surprise at the chill, _slightly chapped,_ lips on his neck, before melting into the wool-covered arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“Hey,” he smiles, squeezing her wrists in greeting, slightly disappointed when she moves away to lie down near his pillows, not nearly close enough for his liking. Immediately, he sets his computer aside, having lost what little interest he had in doing his assigned readings.

“ _Hi,_ ” Agatha frowns up at him as Tedros switched positions to be able to rest against the headboard, folding one leg up and inviting her to rest her head on his other thigh. “Aren’t you supposed to finish that?”

“Later,” he dismisses, tossing the charger and kicking the mouse pad down to make room for her.

“That’s a seventy-page reading,” she says with narrowed eyes, “I bet you need to write an essay too. Which you probably haven’t yet.”

“I haven’t,” Tedros confirms, discarding the thick scarf previously wrapped around her neck to run his fingers through black hair, picking on a stray snowflake, “but you’re here. How was the flight?”

Thankfully, his strategy works and Agatha sighs tiredly, closing her eyes and letting him massage her scalp. _For now._ He is very aware that they'll be talking about this later, but it's holiday season and this last week without her has been anything but **winter fun**.

“Nice enough,” she answers, relaxing against him, “I got the aisle seat and managed to sleep through some of it. There was some turbulence, but nothing too bad. Did you already have dinner?"

Tedros pulls back her bangs to place a kiss on her forehead.

"Is that a 'yes'?" Agatha asks, not unkindly.

"I can ask the chef to pull something together for you, if you're hungry. Pasta, or soup or something else…?"

"No need," she grabs one of his hands, lacing their fingers together, "my mom fed me so much lizard soup before I left that you'd think she was trying to drown me in boiled reptile meat."

Tedros stares.

"You're kidding."

His girlfriend grins, lazily cracking one eye open to evaluate his horrified expression before bursting into cackles, which meant it had about an 80% chance of it actually being _true._

She doubles over on the mattress, clutching her stomach, calming down just enough to look at him again before resuming. It is highly unfair that she looks far too beautiful when she laughs, as it makes it hard for Tedros to be mad at her when she mocks him, so he resorts to half-heartedly pouting instead.

"Agatha," he protests, pulling on their intertwined hands to playfully bite her forearm.

She yelps, swatting at him before rolling away to get up.

"My mother and Reaper send their regards," she tells him, glancing over her shoulder while discarding her boots, the shoes landing on his floor with a muffled _thud_. "She told me to drag you to Gavaldon with me next year."

"I’ll consider," he leans back to watch Agatha taking off her dark jeans, leaving her in thick winter tights, her warm coat and a smirk, "I wouldn’t wanna intrude on your family time. As long as I'm back in time for CI's new years party, I don't think my dad will mind."

Agatha's lips press into a thin line.

"Was he on the phone during the entire christmas dinner again this year?"

Tedros snorts bitterly.

"He’d need to actually _be here_ for that to happen, wouldn’t he?"

He immediately regrets saying that.

His girlfriend looks unreadable, as she tended to do whenever he spoke of his father. He's never had the nerve to outright ask her what she thought of his family situation, despite his therapist’s advice, mostly because he himself didn’t like to dwell much on it, but also because... he couldn't stand the idea of Agatha pitying him.

He doesn’t think his heart would be able to take that.

"He did send me a gift, though," Tedros attempts to fix, "it's a sports car. A nice one. It's silver."

Even to himself, he sounds rather lackluster. His father's absence didn't bother him as much as it used to, but Tedros’ loneliness was particularly strong this year, considering the year before he had spent christmas eve showing Agatha around Camelot and both Merlin and his father managed to stop by for dinner. It had been embarrassing and a bit awkward but probably the happiest christmas he’d had in years.

“Speaking of gifts,” she interrupts his train of thought, making her way back to him after fumbling with something on her suitcase, one hand behind her back, “it’s not a car, but I got you _something._ ”

Agatha’s gripping the lapel of her, still tightly closed, coat and Tedros tries to keep his mind out of the gutter. He’s very much _not_ imagining a red, christmas-themed, version of the _backless little black dress_ she wore to his 19th birthday party, _absolutely not-_

“I thought we, _hm,_ agreed on 'no gifts' this year?” He gulps.

Agatha unfastens the coat with one hand, letting it slip to the floor as she throws another article of clothing over his face before he can see whatever it is she’s wearing underneath.

"I know, but this is _atrocious,_ I just had to buy it."

Confused, Tedros holds the orange and green mass of knit at arms length, before wincing. It's a christmas sweater, its hideous twin being modeled by his girlfriend, who wiggled her brows at him before climbing back in bed to lean her bony elbow on his shoulder.

“Sexy, right?”

“This is the ugliest thing I've ever seen,” he grunts, shaking her off, trying to sound unamused while pulling his shirt over his head to try it on.

Grabbing his phone from the bedside table and opening the camera, he gives himself a once over, inspecting the piece.

“ _Geez,_ ” he notes. While the shade of orange didn’t look as obnoxious on him as it did on Agatha, the puke-green knit wasn’t doing his complexion any favors, not the mention the weird cut of the sleeves and the fit of the neckline.

“Seems like I finally found something you can’t pull off,” Agatha chuckles near his ear.

In a split second, Tedros tilts the camera, managing to get them both in a shot, looking blurry, distorted, and (perhaps worst of all) very, _very badly dressed._

“I’m making this one our christmas card next year,” he teases, laughing as he holds the phone out of reach, avoiding her grabby hands and resisting her attempts to send him tumbling over to the floor. 

“ _Tedros-_ ”

“ _You look so cute in it-_ ”

“ _No!_ ”

“ _Fine,_ ” he finally concedes, panting, arm still stretched over the edge, a cheeky grin plastred onto his face as Agatha gripped his forearm, sprawled halfway across his lap, “ _if_ you let me get you something.”

After subjecting him to a glare, she sits up, knees on either side of hips, letting go of his arm to cup his jaw with both hands.

“Spend christmas with me and mom next year,” she demands without hesitation, breath mixing with his.

Tedros doesn’t think he could have said ‘no’, even if he wanted to.

“As the lady wishes,” he whispers, dropping the phone back on the bedside table to grip her waist. “Now choose an actual gift. C’mon, once in lifetime opportunity, you can ask me for anything you want.”

 _Dear God,_ he loves the way she’s looking at him.

“Anything?”

“ _Anything._ ”

“Well,” she says, slipping her fingers down his torso, seemly pleased at the hitch in his breath as she drags her short nails lightly on his lower back, underneath the sweater, “then consider _this_ as me asking for _everything_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a 'lizard soup' reference, get on with the program.


	14. spa day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, internet folk!  
> This one is more chaotic than anything else. We are approaching the mid point of the fic, which kinda blows my mind?  
> Anyway, I wrote most of this at the dentist's office, so I am unsure if I got the results I was going for. I tried to make it as loud as I could, considering the next chapter is one of the first things I wrote for CMG and has a... different tone to this one. It should be posted sometime next week, maybe during the weekend, considering my classes will be back tomorrow.

(January 29th, 2015)

Bettina is participating in another Model UN event. Good for her. Next. Oh, Aaron got himself a new puppy. Is it a boy? It looks like a male puppy. It’s adorable, look at those cute big brown eyes-

“Well, then I guess you’re _off_ the event planning committee, aren’t you?” Sophie says, dangerously calm, tapping her acrylic nails in the wooden surface.

From the other side of the table, Nicola fumes in her chair, gripping the nearly arranged papers dangerously tight and Tedros can imagine her counting to 10 mentally, reaching 7 before sighing loudly.

He scrolls down to the next post.

“I’m the _treasurer,_ ” the sophomore hisses, “you can’t kick me off the committee. You _need_ me to approve your budget!”

“Then approve it,” his ex-girlfriend insists, her eyes probably as sharp as knives.

Max and his husband are in Maidenvale. Did his father give him the week off? He deserved it. That guy worked some long hours. It’s a nice picture, maybe Tedros should consider Maidenvale for spring break. He was planning on going back to Camelot, as usual, but, to be honest, he didn't feel like it.

Agatha would probably go home too. She always brushed off his offers to accompany him during any holidays or breaks. Not that he blamed her. _Must be nice,_ he thinks, _having someone to return home to._

“It’s supposed to be 'self-care day’, not ‘Sophie’s **spa day** ’,” Nicola slams the paperwork down, “I can’t approve this. A five-hour-long workshop on ‘the benefits of using imported cucumbers for your hair mask’? Massage booths with exclusive VIP access for the Communication and Events Director, ministrated by the ‘hot’ sophomore boys on the lacrosse team? _Have you lost your goddamn mind?_ What kind of program is this-"

“Would you rather I put those ‘why social media is ruining us all’ lectures back instead? Absolutely not, they’re so boring-”

“Only girls would attend that lecture any way,” Chaddick snorts, somewhere to Tedros’ left. “Ow, Reena that’s my foot!”

Selfie, selfie, new announcement for the Enchanted collection from Briar Beauty, those shirts were looking quite nice, the red one would go great with some of his dark jeans, is that a chest slit-

“Sorry, you must have accidentally put your foot under my heels, _oopsies,_ ” the co-head cheerleader answers, “Chaddick, be a dear and fetch me some of that watery coffee of yours.”

“What am I, an errand boy?”

“A glorified one, that’s for sure,” Ravan mentions, casually pointing at the plaque in front of the jock, the word ‘assistant’ reflecting the white lights of classroom 3-10. “Get me one too. Make sure not to spit on it.”

Hester cackles.

“Like you’re any better,” Chaddick growls at her. “Everyone knows you’re only here because-”

“Go on, errand boy, enlighten us-”

A muffled amused chuckle catches Tedros’ attention over the noise as the room continues to descend into mayhem and chaos.

With one last look at his feed, he pulls out the empty chair next to him for her to sit. Technically, she was supposed to be seated on the right side, across from Sophie, as sharing the head of the table was a bit of a tight squeeze. 

He doesn't know if she _knows_ that, but he won’t be the one to tell her.

Once settled in the seat, Agatha outstretches her hand towards him

Tedros stares at her for a solid five seconds, brain short-circuiting. _Does she want me to hold it or am I supposed to kiss it, I-_

Oh.

He hands her back the VP plaque, which he had previously hung on top of his when he noted her absence in the room earlier.

“How long since you’ve given up on mediating?” She asks him, eyes darting between Sophie and Nicola who were nearly at each other’s throats, with Dot trying (and being rather unsuccessful) to diffuse the situation, and Hester, Ravan and Chaddick whom seemed to be getting ready for World War III under the watchful eyes of Reena and Anadil.

“About ten minutes. I was about to make it my villain origin story," he dismisses. "Dovey held you up for long?”

Agatha shrugs, leaning over towards him to reach for something near her bag, on the floor behind him.

Tedros tries not to sniff, but the scent is registered by his nose almost automatically. Agatha’s uniform has this particularly intoxicating, herb-like, earthy scent to it. He’s not quite sure if it’s the fabric softener she uses, or her soap, maybe a lotion of sorts, but he’s been tempted more than once to ask her about it so he could get his hands on it.

“Kinda. Also had to take a detour to get myself some tea. I had a feeling this meeting was going to be long,” she admits. “Speaking of which, there you go.”

The cup she deposits in front of him is definitely not from the shitty coffee maker in the hall of the teacher’s common room.

“You know how I like my tea...?” Tedros asks, inspecting the logo.

“I know you like it when it’s called ‘hot chocolate’,” she responds. “Here’s the report you asked on the satisfaction level on the new cafeteria menu.” 

He smiles.

"What would I do without you?"

"Die a gruesome and gory death, I suppose."

Tedros accepts the document, scanning over it rather lazily, already knowing it was exactly what he asked for and he himself probably couldn't have done it better.

It had taken quite a chunk of his persuasion abilities to get Agatha to actually run for student council, back in September, and another chunk to run _with_ him, instead of separately, but man, was he glad he agreed to give her all his deserts for the following three months.

"Unbelievable. Objection!" Sophie shrieks, dragging Tedros out of his thoughts.

"Objection denied, I'll allow it."

"What? Aggie!"

"Proceed, Nic."

"But a spa theme would be so much better-"

"Well, I vetoed that one," Agatha points out. "And Hester. And Nicola. And Ravan. And Anadil."

"You already used your veto twice, though." Chaddick points out, just for the chaos of it.

"Can she do that?" Dot asks.

"I mean," Reena adds, shrugging, "technically. If the president allows her to. He has unlimited vetos. So?"

Everyone is looking at him.

_Oh, right, he was the president._

Pretending to check something on the report Agatha had handed to him, Tedros schools his face into an aloof, business-like demeanor. He couldn't play favorites.

"The vice-president may veto as many themes as she wants. I'll allow it."

Sophie groans. "Of course you would."

Agatha smirks.

"Well, spa-day is vetoed. Next?"

“We could branch it into two days," Anadil suggests, "have the lectures on the first and then the activities on the second. That way we could fit more stuff." 

“Should we make it mandatory though?” Reena questions, examining the infographics Sophie presented early. "People really seem to not like the lectures."

“I think the actual problem is the length," Ravan says, "maybe reduce the duration and instead create a program where multiple lectures happen at the same time. That way the students could pick which one they want to attend."

"What theme are we using for the workshops then? We still haven't decided that and it's kinda major for what kind of lectures we should offer," Chaddick mentions, straightening out his plaque.

"Maybe we could split it into minor themes for each one, rather than have one big theme?" Dot jots down. "Each of us comes up with a few, so about one for every 15 people or so?"

Reena frowns.

“We still need to account for who’s going to do the planning for the event itself. I think we should pair up and have two teams to come up with the workshops," she uncrosses her arms, holding up a hand to illustrate her point. "Dot and I can oversee and host some of the mental health related ones, but we still need someone to alter the entire program and create a lecture schedule. Someone needs to take care of the website, so people can sign up, and another team needs to come up with the marketing. Whomever is left should be in charge of the physical health workshops.”

“Good, Anadil and I will handle the website and sign up process,” Hester is quick to claim.

“I’m doing the program!” Nicola and Sophie shout over each other.

Sophie narrows her eyes.

"Agatha and I are organizing the schedule-"

“Not on my watch you’re not-”

"Actually, I was thinking Agatha could run the physical health workshops with me," Tedros decides, rather impulsively. “It would, _hm,_ be nice and... constructive, for you two to work together for once.”

Ravan gives Tedros an unimpressed look before lifting a brow to Chaddick.

Sophie looks like she wants to argue, but as Nicola brings up the next topic on their agenda, the blonde is quickly distracted.

Tedros tries to keep his eyes and ears on the explanation she provides, but the weight of Agatha’s stare on his profile makes it nearly impossible.

“Physical health,” she crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair. "Me?"

“What, think you can’t handle it?” He sips his hot chocolate. It’s not too sweet, but not overly bitter. _Just right._

“Oh no, I’m trusting the two push-ups I’ve done in the last year to carry me through.”

“Aren’t you a good runner? You were going to try out for the track and field team before you broke your leg.”

“Yeah, in freshman year,” Agatha confirms before frowning again, “how do you know that?”

Somehow, ‘I grilled Sophie on it back when I dated her for a hot second trying to convince myself I wasn’t interested in you’ didn’t sound too promising.

“My gym class let out just before yours,” no, it did not, it wasn’t even on the same day. “It’s okay, if you can’t keep up, then you can be my water girl.”

“Haha.”

“No, but seriously, I was thinking you could help me with the logistics side of it,” Tedros pauses, before adding, “but, if you want, we can start running a few laps on the field to get you back in shape.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t like running,” Agatha lifts a brow, looking far too sly. “Always struck you more as a lifting weights kind of guy.”

_Well, that would be because I am._

“I like winning, regardless of the sport,” he dismisses. “Injured leg or not, you’re going down.”

“Oh, so you’re not going easy on me?”

“No way.”

Agatha smirks.

“Okay, you’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been part of the student council, but if they're half as wild as the kids I met in model UN, then this depiction might be accurate.


	15. coffin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!  
> So, this is actually the third chapter I wrote for CMG, back in june, when I was still deciding if I wanted to follow the actual prompt order or not. It was supposed to be under the 'conforting' prompt but,,,,  
> Take a read, I think you'll see what I mean.

(October 3rd, 2022) 

For someone who grew up near a graveyard, funerals are but familiar affairs.

Agatha has watched her fair share of them through the back window of her childhood home, and even attended quite a few, mostly for old acquaintances of her mother. Some were crowded, others very private, some had music, others included speeches, and most of them involved a lot of crying. 

She cried at August Sader’s and no other, so far.

It had been a small funeral. Agatha was barely fourteen at the time, not quite sure why she was crying, but her mother held her hand tightly during most of it. 

Back then, Agatha hadn’t known much about the man other than that he was a kind blind painter whom was close friends with her mother, stopping by the tea shop at least once every two months, between travels, always bearing all sorts of sweets and trinkets for Agatha. But somehow, someway, she must have _known._ She'd cried silently during the burial, and then cried a bit louder at home after Callis sat her down at the dinning table for a _talk._

Arthur Pendragon’s funeral is nothing like August Sader’s at all, but all funerals are a bit alike in the way that they are all, at their very core, about _love,_ just as they are about _grief._

Agatha’s now nearly twenty-six and she doesn’t cry when the elaborate **coffin** is brought into view. Instead, she takes a deep breath and pulls Tedros’s coat tighter around his shoulders with her free hand while he holds onto the other.

Tedros doesn’t cry either, but his eyes are tinted an angry red, the usual clear baby-blue giving way to stormy-grey irises framed by dark bags. His suit matches her dress, selected by the Camelot International's PR team. She personality thinks they're all full of shit, _his father just died and you're worrying about his clothes,_ but Tedros agreed to do it, so she wears it without complaint, despite the fact that the coat they gave her isn’t putting up much of a fight against the chilly weather, even after they go inside the chapel.

People come over to talk to them during the next few hours and they don’t seem like they’ll ever stop coming. Some are business partners, family friends and members of old money clans. Others are childhood friends of Tedros, eventual acquaintances and even employees. Most of them she doesn’t fully recognize and their faces are but a blur without Tedros' usual snarky comments being whispered in her ear to tell them apart.

Every single one of them puts their hand on his shoulder, some of them say a few words and Agatha thanks them, with an uncharacteristically meek voice, once they turn to look at her, given her fiancé’s lack of a reaction to their presence.

Guinevere and Lancelot stop by in the late afternoon to pay their respects to Arthur, whether as old friends or as ex-wife and ex-best friend, she doesn't know. But they don’t approach Tedros. Agatha thinks it’s for the best that they don’t.

Eventually, the sun goes down, taking away all fair-weather friends and tiring out the tone-deaf tabloid reporters standing near the entrance. At some point she brings him dinner, _because it’s been almost eighteen hours Tedros please please please eat something._

(It might be near 3AM when he relents, at last, forcing down two glasses of water down his throat as well a bowl of soup. They eat in silence.)

After that, for the first time since they arrived, Tedros moves over, away from her and closer to the coffin. His eyes are closed, but his lips are moving, despite not uttering a sound. She wants to go to him, but she has never been one to pray and they both know it, so she watches instead.

Agatha doesn’t remember falling asleep, but by the time Merlin shakes her awake, it’s already early noon, and the chapel is completely empty aside from the three of them. Her neck hurted like hell, as well as her back and even with Tedros’ coat draped over her legs, she was unbearably cold.

The older man kindly advises her to go rest, to which she wants to respond to with a solid 'no', but Tedros looks at her over his shoulder, from a few benches away. He has never looked so miserable and Agatha has never felt so powerless.

_Please, Agatha._

The next few hours alone at the apartment are, somehow, even more suffocating.

She has a big test coming up in two weeks, which she hasn’t studied for; there’s still wedding preparations to cancel and media statements to address; the apartment is absolutely filthy, as they hadn't managed to do any housekeeping this week; there’s 8 missed calls from CI’s PR director; Sophie and Hester have been texting her non-stop for hours with too many questions; there’s nothing to eat so she needs to cook; she hates this dress so much; she’s so tired and _Tedros_ -

With shaking hands, Agatha calls her mother.

Once Callis picks up, the woman can barely get a word in before Agatha spirals, curling on the sofa as her vision blurred due to unshed tears. It’s a while before she calms down enough to actually make any sense, but her mother doesn’t seem to mind. She never did. It had to be at least 1AM at Gavaldon, but her mom never minds and someday she’s going to be _gone_ and-

Hours later, as she washes the autumn air out of her hair, she can hear her fiancé’s keys dropping in the bowl next to the door, expensive oxford shoes clacking on vinyl wood flooring while he moves around the kitchen. The microwave beeps, telling her he probably found the leftovers she put away for him.

She changes into one of the few clean band T-shirts she had left, dries off her hair, and looks at the wet shower floor. Tedros would nag her if she left it like that. But then again, he hasn’t nagged her in a while and Agatha misses it. 

With a sigh, she picks up a cloth from under the sink and gets to work.

Outside, a muffled ‘thud’ gets her attention. She twists the doorknob carefully, taking a peek as discreetly as possible.

_As if her chest didn’t feel tight enough._

Tedros is passed out on their bed, still in his funeral attire, though he now lacked the coat, tie and shoes, arm thrown over his eyes to block out the lights, which he left on, probably so she wouldn’t trip.

On her tip-toes, Agatha sneaks over to his side, turning them off as she went, careful not to disturb him when she kisses the top of his head in ‘goodnight’.

It proves to be a rather pointless effort, as Tedros removes his arm from its previous position, grasping her hand, rolling over to her side of the bed to pull her to his previous spot. Still holding her hand, he interlocks their fingers, only to turn away from her, forcing Agatha into cuddling him from behind.

Not that she would ever protest to that.

She lets out a breathless half-hearted laugh.

“Hello, you,” she says. “Tired?” 

Tedros curls further onto himself to mold the rest of his body into hers. The knot in her throat eases the slightest bit when he decides to place his glacial feet to her ankle. _I love you, please stay close._

Agatha swings a leg over his hip. He stays silent, quietly tracing over her engagement ring before moving her wrist to his lips.

“I didn’t mean it,” he mumbles, so softly against her skin she nearly doesn’t hear him. “I shouldn’t have said that to him. Even if I had meant it.”

“Tedros-”

“I’m... never going to see my dad ever again... and the last thing I said to him… the last thing I said... was that I didn’t want him at my wedding,” he continues, grasping her arm against his chest. “I.. Do you think he... died… died thinking I didn’t want him there?”

He sobs himself to sleep and there’s nothing Agatha can do but hold on to him as tightly as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see why I didn't put it in the 'conforting' prompt right


	16. villains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, welcome to a holiday update!  
> I asked you guys on insta, and you decided on a double update so, here I am, chapter today and chapter tomorrow!  
> Happy holidays everyone!

(March 24th, 2021)

“I’ll be a bit late tonight… Nothing major, my professor asked to meet me to discuss something on my report… Yeah, that one. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll stop by the dorm on my way back. What kind of takeout do you want me to bring?” Tedros asks putting away his bag while Agatha answers. “Thai it is then. Alright. Love you.” 

He hangs up the phone, trying not to feel too bad about lying to her.

The person he’s actually meeting is sitting on a bench nearby when Tedros comes out of the changing room. Her eyes scan the few other college-aged guys walking around with cold aloofness, not unlike one would look at shiny new computers at a tech store.

He automatically frowns.

“You’re early.”

“Wow, one would think you’re not ecstatic to see me,” Sophie greets with her usual razor sharp smile, arms crossed over her purple blouse, like one of the **villains** in a 2000’s romantic comedy. “I missed you too, Teddy.”

Sophie looked pretty much the same since the last time Tedros saw her, almost a year prior, at her birthday party. Her hair was shorter, now at a medium length, but still perfectly styled, matching her business-like attire: serious, but fashionable.

He ignores the jab, merely responding with: “I could have had swim practice after this.”

“But you don’t,” she punctuates, rising to her feet, swiftly striding past him towards the parking lot without a moment to spare, “chop, chop.”

Tedros sighs loudly before catching up with her.

They drive silently around Camelot for about 10 to 15 minutes before a rather unavoidable storm begins to brew.

"Your car actually has four doors now," Sophie points out, when they stop at a red light, her tone not entirely friendly. "Maybe you did learn something dating Agatha for all these years, after all."

The comment manages to be both offensive and flattering which Tedros assumes must be Sophie's natural expertise. The light turns green and he turns left towards the high-end district. Tedros should let it slide. She’s doing this on purpose, he has seen her do this to Agatha multiple times, the key was to not give her a react-

"What, did you expect me to drive to fencing class in my Porsche 911 just because you're in town?" He snaps back. 

"Well, surely if you owned a sports car _and_ two braincells, you wouldn't need help getting an engagement ring for your girlfriend of nearly six years. Alas, I suppose that's asking too much," Sophie sighs, dramatically, “guess you can’t have both a brain and a big budget.”

_If he crashes this car right now, what are the chances of Sophie bein-_

Deep breaths.

"I just asked you for her ring size. I know you guys have the same size because you lent Agatha those rings last year for that charity gala,” Tedros explains, parking the car and reaching under the seat for his sunglasses and mask, “I asked you for her ring size but _you_ insisted on meeting up."

"I was in town for work, I’m the best friend and likely maid of honor, and I like ring shopping,” she shrugs, checking the time on her delicate wrist watch. “Your point?"

"I didn't ask for your ‘help’! Agatha just doesn't own any rings for me to reference off!"

"Well, whose fault is that? I've been telling you to propose for years now."

Tedros slicks his hair back aggressively before tucking most of his blond curls into a hat, snarling back:

“You’re the _last_ person I want to hear that from.”

Sophie unbuckles her seat belt calmly, the only clue that his remark hit a nerve being the furrow in her brow, gone the very next second and replaced by a cold, unapologetic stare.

“You look like a pathetically inexperienced drug dealer.”

He glares at her and they step out of the car.

“What did you even tell her you were doing today?” Sophie continues, advancing past him, casually checking out the shop windows for this season’s designs.

“Uni stuff,” he shrugs.

“And Agatha _believed_ you?”

“Do you take some kind of sick pleasure in antagonizing me?" Tedros asks when they walk into the jewelry store, adjusting his sunglasses just to be sure. It’s not crowded by any means, this store never is, but it wasn’t completely empty either and he wasn’t taking any chances. 

"How could I not, when you’re such easy prey," it’s all Sophie tells him, suddenly light-hearted, before she approaches an employee. He’s not sure if she meant it as a joke, but Agatha would have laughed. Tedros doesn’t. There’s something about the way Sophie’s expression and tone changes completely in a few seconds that makes his hair stand on end.

She had always been like that, as far as Tedros can remember. Volatile _and_ mysterious _and_ dramatic. He's never quite understood if he hated or admired that about her.

It’s been thirty-five minutes since he hung up the phone and he already desperately misses Agatha.

The employee shrinks away from Sophie after the two exchange a few words, side-eyeing Tedros carefully before disappearing to the back of the store. He’s about to recriminate her into apologizing when the young woman reappears, guiding them to a dark sideroom locked by a heavy metal door behind the counter. 

(Tedros has a feeling she's supposed to stay in the room with them, if for nothing else, for security reasons, but one look from Sophie sends her scurrying outside after unlocking a side display of engagement rings.)

Sophie grins.

“Shall we get started?”

They begin using an elimination process. Anything too bulky was out, anything that immediately looked very expensive was out and anything in yellow gold was also out. They both agree that silver was far too plain for the occasion leaving them with an inventory of more basic designs made out of white gold and platinum.

Sophie picks out one, pointing out it would look great whether Tedros picked pearls or diamonds, when he notices it:

“Your nails.”

She flinches, pausing her speech to glare at him.

“What about them?”

“They’re short,” Tedros points out, dumbly, looking comically wide-eyed. “You have short nails now.”

“It’s just more practical!” she shrieks defensively, putting the ring back in the display to hide her hands behind her back “I don’t know what you’re thinking but it’s not-”

“Agatha knows,” he concludes, speaking over her. Sophie’s cheeks burn red and there’s a fire behind her green eyes that sets him more at ease.

_Human warmth._

“Agatha knows,” she admits, repeating it back to him, her eyes softening ever so slightly but still guarded. “Stop smiling at me, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he lifts his hands in surrender, far too amused. “I’m happy for you. Hope everything works out.”

“My god, you are sap,” she rolls her eyes playfully before a more serious look overtakes her features. “Do you remember what I said to you after I dumped you in freshmen year?”

Tedros snorts.

“Is that how you remember it?”

“It’s what happened.”

“No, it isn't."

“Do you remember what I said?” Sophie presses, now back to examining the rings.

Truthfully, he didn’t think of that day often. And usually when he did, it wasn’t the conversation with _Sophie_ that he looked back on. 

But he did remember.

 _You_ knew _I was the wrong girl_ , a much younger Sophie than the one standing before him had snarled at him, _You_ knew _and you said ‘yes’ anyway. Do me a favor and pick the right one next time._

He hadn’t understood what Sophie meant at the time. Or rather, he did, but hadn’t really wanted to think about it-

“You knew,” Tedros accuses, surprisingly not hostile.

“I knew,” she smiled candidly. “You’re a slow one.”

“You could have just told me.”

Sophie lifts her hand, a discreet band of platinum and diamonds decorating it.

“Well, that wouldn’t have made for an interesting story, would it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you guys tomorrow!


	17. food fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, internet folk!  
> First, I'd like to thank everyone who commented in the last few chapters, left kudos and/or bookmarked the story; you guys are my favorites, thank you so much for your support!  
> This is a bit of a longer chapter than usual and it was actually the chapter that made me write this fic in the first place.  
> I hope you like it!

(June 3rd, 2021)

"... I've been meaning to tell you for some time now; I think the apartment is haunted."

"Oh really," Agatha stirred the sauce in the pot, "so a _ghost_ threw out my energy drinks?"

"Can’t you just drink coffee? You have a biology degree, you know those things aren't good for you," Tedros replies defensively from the kitchen island, chopping the crispy bacon stripes into tiny bits. 

“Coffee takes too much sugar to taste good and too much time to make, so I might as well drink something that’s already ready and sweet-”

"Well, in any case, there’s none left.”

“Bizarre how that happened,” Agatha looks at him over her shoulder. “I bought six yestday.”

“Who knows, maybe the ghost was thirsty, you don't know what they've been through."

"Very pro-paranormal of you.”

"I have to be," her boyfriend snorts, "God knows that with the amount of energy drinks you consume, you might as well visit the other side sooner rather than later."

"I don’t drink that many," she protests. "I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway; your loud-angry-typing keeps me up, so I might as well use that time to be productive. And we still went to bed early."

“Maybe we should turn the guest room into a home office,” Tedros suggests, finishing up his task and advancing towards her after wiping his hands on a rag. “Also, 2AM does not qualify as _early._ "

"It absolutely does," she tries not to grin, feeling his fingers running down her sides to rest on her hips, putting out the stove and setting the pan aside in order to avoid any major accidents. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?" Tedros murmurs, pulling her hair aside to lightly drag his lips across her nape.

"Trying to have your way," she squints, attempting to read the next step of the recipe on the back of the spaghetti noodles package. How a graphic designer could have possibly looked at this font and thought ‘yeah, this one, perfect’ was beyond-

"With you or just in general?" He goes for her earlobe, because _of course he does,_ which is unfair and she has muffle a pleased noise.

"I think you're right, the apartment is haunted," Agatha turns around in his arms, walking him backwards towards the island before he can sweet talk her into his energy-drink-ban.

Tedros stares at her in confusion but quickly gives in the kiss she offers him, melting onto her, now distracted with sneaking his hands underneath her shirt.

_Honestly, he makes it too easy._

In a swift move, Agatha grabs the half-full sack of flour behind him and dumps the contents over his head.

"There, now you'll fit right in with the other _thirsty ghosts,_ " she grins at his shocked expression.

Tedros lets go of her with one hand to fluff the excess flour off his hair, making a good job of looking adorable while at it, as if still processing what happened. Then, his other hand tightens around her hip and his eyes narrow, framed by stark white eyelashes.

“Betrayal is against the official rules of a **food fight**.”

Agatha lifts a brow, walking out of his arms.

“And what are you gonna do about it, Casper?”

Predictably, he goes for the olive oil bowl, which she manages to dodge with minimal effort, but perhaps she had underestimated his cruelty as the trick gets her back into grabbing reach.

“And now you can fit in with the ghosts too, love” he mirrors her earlier grin, grappling to keep her still while dumping a nearly-full carton of cold milk down the back of her shirt.

By the end, there’s no clear winner, as they run out of ammunition and Agatha slips in a puddle, knocking into a cabinet, which has Tedros proposing a truce immediately to fret over her, despite having already tumbled to the floor twice himself.

“Seems like we’ll be doing groceries again tomorrow,” he chuckles. “No energy drinks.”

“Oh no,” she argues, “if I’m doing the groceries, I’m buying whatever I want.”

“Then I’m doing groceries.”

“Because that worked out well so far?”

Tedros grows red in the face, pouting at her.

“Fine, but we’re not having beer tonight, I’m choosing the drinks.”

Honestly, the grocery-shopping situation wasn’t entirely his fault.

Agatha could have been more helpful, as this entire housekeeping thing was probably a first to him _and_ he was still working on his undergraduate thesis, but between overseeing the minor construction in their apartment, moving in right after graduation and applying to med school, she’d been busy as well. They had been living together for about a week when she first noticed the contents of their fridge, or rather the lack thereof, on a night they were too lazy to order in.

Somehow, she still expected to find at least some fruits, given how much of a picky eater Tedros was. Instead, they had a ton of whey protein, fancy alcohol and an absurd amount of Agatha’s favorite sweets.

That night, they shared a pack of crackers, ate a chocolate bar each, drank half of a 300-dollar bottle of red wine, and called _that_ dinner.

(Don’t tell her mother.)

However, enough was enough and now thursdays were home-cooking-only days in this household, come hell or high water.

Agatha wasn’t a chef by any means, but she could cook, somewhat. So far they managed a decent chicken, a half-burnt fish with chips and even a tasty soup. Her boyfriend was mostly in charge of breakfast and making salads, but, quite unexpectedly, Tedros was picking up the skills fast, being able to cook an okay-ish stew for her last week with minimal trouble.

And today was pasta day.

They figured out the sauce fairly quick (not a brag, as it was ridiculously easy to make, but still). The bacon had been a bit more problematic. Tedros had nearly gotten himself killed when some of the grease spilled down the side of the pan and into the flames as he poured it into a bowl. After that, Agatha took over, delegating to him the job of draining and cutting the pieces as she cooked them, which he gladly took.

Now, all that was left were the noddles themselves.

Tedros seemed to be taking his time deciding what type of overpriced wine they’d be having over dinner, so she took it upon herself the task of figuring out the amount of pasta she should put in the pot. Agatha vaguely remembers her mother grabbing a portion of noodles for each person with her hands... but that looks like way too little pasta. Was she doing it right? Were you supposed to grab more loosely?

The water in the pot starts to boil and Agatha decides that they can always just eat the leftovers tomorrow at lunch, dumping the entire package onto the hot water.

“I think you need to turn the temperature to medium,” Tedros pipes in, a bit of flour dripping onto her shoulder as he inspects the noodles. “Also, aren’t you supposed to break them in half?”

She gasps, horrified, as she turns down the heat.

“What kind of unhinged person breaks spaghetti in half?!”

“They just seem kinda long,” he defended, before whispering in her ear with a teasing smirk: _“I’ll have to cut them with a knife.”_

“Get away from me, heathen,” Agatha pushes him away, her eyes locked onto the pasta.

Tedros snickers and she hears him rummaging through the cabinets for plates, setting the table, making sure to protect the chairs so they could sit without staining them.

“How do we know when they’re ready?” she frowns, using a spoon to keep the pasta from sticking together. “I mean, the package said to stir for 10 to 20 minutes. My mother used to add salt to the water, to make it taste better, but I think that might make it cook faster? How much salt should we put?”

Tedros offers her no answer.

“Do we, like, do that thing where people throw it against a wall, like in that cooking show we watched last week? Or is one of us taking one for the team and taste-testing to see if it’s done?”

Silence.

“Tedros, c’mon-”

“Marry me.”

Agatha’s frown deepens, still examining the pot, as if she could acquire the ability to tell the consistency of the noodles just by staring at them. They were looking a bit more loose, but how much was enough-

“Don’t joke around, I used the entire package, how do we tell if-”

“I’m not joking,” his voice echoes soundly through the kitchen, “ _I_ _love you, marry me._ ”

Agatha turns to face him.

“I just dumped a sack of flour over your head, laughed when you fell into a puddle of olive oil and accused you of being a bad grocery-shopper.”

“I know,” Tedros smiles. “I was there. Marry me.”

“Did you hit your head?”

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

She crosses her arms, unsure if she wanted to laugh or cry.

“Technically you still haven’t asked me anything.”

“I don’t have the ring here with me right now. I look like a mess and I’m so hungry I could eat that entire sauce pan by myself. But I-” Tedros mutters, his eyes never straying from hers as he goes down in one knee on their filthy kitchen floor, “I feel like this is it. I don’t wanna wait another three months until our anniversary; I want to be yours _now._ I wanna fight with you over your stupid energy drinks, and I wanna hear you complain that I mess with the thermostat and I wanna cook mediocre meals with you every single thursday night until I die. You’re so smart, and kind, and funny, and loyal, and sexy, and hardworking and just so… _beautiful_. I love you. From the day I met you I think I loved you and I haven’t been able to do much about it since. I love you and I love you and I love you and I wanna grow old with you. Marry me?”

Agatha approaches him, running shaky fingers through flour-covered golden curls, slipping them down his neck and shoulders, stopping to grip his forearms as she knelt too.

“Yes,” she whispers in his ear, like she was telling him a secret, pulling away slightly to look into teary blue eyes. “I love you too.”

It 's fitting. Everyone knows that important questions are meant to be asked in the right moment, and nothing feels more right than trying to cook pasta with your long-time lover at 9pm on a thursday night.

 _Can I kiss you?_ she had once asked him underneath the starlight in a dirty firescape.

Six years later, she doesn’t even need to ask.

Tedros tastes like flour and mint when he sits back on the floor against the cabinets, pulling her into his lap, running his hands upon any available piece of bare skin he could find. He’s wearing far too many clothes, which Agatha counteracts by pulling his shirt over his head, but before she could kiss him again, he mumbles:

“What’s our cover story?”

“Cover story?” She asks against his lips, still dazed.

“I mean, people are gonna ask and I...” Tedros discontinues, and Agatha isn’t sure if he wants an actual answer, given he’s still stroking her tights and attempting to short circuit her brain.

“Don’t wanna share?”

“Pretty much.”

“How were you going to propose originally?” A quick scan of his sheepish smile tells her everything she needs to know. “Something big and elaborate, very extra with, like, _symbolism_ and stuff, wasn't it?”

“How do you feel about swimming in Camelot’s cold waters at 4am?” Tedros suggests wiggling his brows.

“No one would believe you,” she chuckles, kissing his neck.

“Why not?”

“Because...” she pulls his earlobe between her teeth, just like he had done earlier. Tedros drags her back to his lips and Agatha laughs into his mouth. “If you made me do that, I’d say _no_. C’mon, let’s eat. I have a feeling a ghost is going to keep me up all night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all in 2021, for more OTK proposal diss tracks and fluff!


	18. rainy day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, a surprise update after more than a month of radio-silence? More likely than you'd think.

(August 27th, 2017) 

With a sigh, Agatha rolls to the other side, frustrated.

Outside, the rain has long since stopped. Turning her head to the left, she tries to analyze the clouds through small slash in between the curtains.

Autumn seems to be creeping in, bringing grey skies, though it is still august. In a way, it felt a bit like Gavaldon weather, if not for the furious blasts of wind and chilly atmosphere. 

Yes, today will be a **rainy day**. Or maybe not? It was hard to tell. Simple answers didn’t really apply to the weather here, one learned after struggling with the forecasts for a while.

When packing her bags to move to Camelot, it hadn’t really been much of a primary concern, other than her distinct lack in the summer-wardrobe and heavy-winter-wear categories. In fact, worrying about autumn didn’t even cross her mind once: her clothes were fine for the never-quite-clear skies of Gavaldon and made do for the eventual weekend out at the academy, therefore, they should last her a while before winter came, right?

Well… Thankfully she had a very warm, _very expensive_ coat to keep her warm while she stocked up on thick sweaters, fuzzy scarfs and lined boots during the first few weeks.

Now, you see, Agatha isn’t the type of person you’d ever suspect of owning an obscenely expensive designer coat. Though, as you'd might suspect, it was a gift.

The first time Tedros came over, he got her an -asymmetrical, but otherwise unassuming- brownish-grey trench coat. The item had been handed to her first thing when he stepped into the college dorm, without so much as a box or bag. 

_Faced with an inquisitive stare, her boyfriend smiled, making a dismissing gesture when she didn’t relent. Tedros then shoved the coat into her hands more urgently, pressing her to try it on so he could see if he guessed her size correctly (which he had), adding:_

_“I thought you’d need one. The weather here is rather unforgiving, so consider it a welcome gift from me.”_

_‘Welcome gift’,_ he called it, oh so casually, with those earnest bright eyes.

She had, at the time, known it was likely an expensive item. Because _of course it would be._ God forbid Tedros ever bought anything that wasn’t at least slightly overpriced. But it’s not until almost three months later that she realizes just _how_ overpriced, when she first visits Sophie at Shazabah:

 _“It’s an exclusive runway item,” her friend gawked as she demanded_ _to try it on. “A Briar Beauty Haute-Couture limited edition, nearly impossible to get ahold of. They only sell items like this in auctions! ...Aggie, please tell me you didn't cut off the tags, it's a collector's dream coat!”_

And just this once, Agatha hadn't been the one to cut them, actually.

Turns out you also can't re-sell designer items to pay back your boyfriend without the tags.

_(“You,” she had accused when she got back, throwing the coat at him._

_“Me?”, he'd chuckled, ducking just in time. “I don't know what you're talking about.”)_

At the very least, it had been an incredibly useful gift. When Tedros had called the weather _‘rather unforgiving’_ , it had been an understatement. If Gavaldon's weather is predictable in it’s boring eternal-fall, than Camelot's weather was anything but, changing constantly, like mother nature couldn’t quite decide what to do with it. 

How very peculiar that she soon found out that she didn’t really mind it.

Agatha isn’t a very adaptable person. She doesn’t like change, she doesn’t like taking leaps or getting out of her comfort zone. There are things she knows work for her, and rarely ever does she feel the need to stray from them. She’s good at patterns and finds comfort on routines.

Stable. Normal. Ordinary.

By all means, she wasn’t the type of person you’d suspect to risk it all by following her highschool boyfriend to a major city, away from everything and everyone she’d ever known. That could never be her.

_And yet._

And yet, how easy it had been for Agatha to slip into a life that had once felt so _other._

Once upon a time, during a christmas visit, she got lost at the Camelot University campus and it took Tedros twenty minutes to find her. Now, she knew this campus like the back of her hand, down to every nook and cranny you could imagine. 

After years of mostly working behind the scenes, she now was the spokesperson for a pacific student activism group. She was involved in extra class projects, not because Tedros bribed her or because Sophie dragged her for the ride; Agatha signed up simply because she had wanted to sign up, because she had something to say. 

As planned, she has yet buy a car. But not because she could just walk anywhere, like she always thought would be the case. No, nowadays the Camelot subway map was burned into the back of her eyelids, with the robotic voice announcing the arrival of the train at _Lion's Meadow Station_ after a long day sounding ever so familiar. 

In the academy, she had been thankful to not have any roommates. The idea of sharing her space with anyone other than her mother (and Sophie, maybe, kinda sorta) had been unthinkable. And now, the smell of takeout was enough for her to identify which of the three girls she shared her dorm with had ordered it, with the amount of bickering being enough to tell who was paying.

To think that Agatha had thought at some point that Tedros was fated to be an ill-advised school romance/fever dream to laugh about over beer at their high school reunion was surreal. Of course, she had always known she was going to love him for a long time, there was never any doubt about that part, but to be fair, she hadn’t expected him to stick around for it. But, for some reason, miracle, divine intervention, he had.

Behind her, Tedros unexpectedly sneaks back in, pulling her away from his side of the bed and towards the middle, his warm breath tickling her nape and sending a goosebump down her spine. 

“You’re thinking too loudly, I could hear you all the way from the shower,” he mumbles, the smell of mint and overpriced soap luring her in. “Did the blow-dryer wake you?” 

“Had trouble falling back asleep,” Agatha replies, reaching back to glide her fingers along his jaw and into his hair. He presses lazy kisses to her shoulder, probably leaving chapstick all over it.

“Missed me too much?” He jokes.

_‘Yeah, I did.’_

She could just say that, really. It’s not like he doesn’t know.

Instead, she attempts to kick his shin and Tedros swings a leg over her hip, tangling their limbs. Agatha mouths his forearm in retaliation, but doesn’t quite bite down.

 _‘Why do you always come back?’,_ was a much more dramatic one that she could go for. It would make sense for him to just go about his day, instead of coming back to bed after training. But Agatha is both too proud and too cowardly to ask that one.

Vulnerability was such a scary word.

She’s not usually this weak. Agatha’s honest, blunt and straightforward. There’s no need to be anything else. If people liked her, then they liked her, and if they didn’t, then they didn’t and it was better to know than to not know. She was born alone, and like all humans, she was to die alone, because that’s just how things were if you got lucky and didn’t get killed in some sort of mass tragedy. 

There’s no such thing as soulmates and she was her own person. If Tedros left, she’d be okay. She would feel happiness again, eventually. People only die of heartbreak in movies.

_And yet._

“I think it’s gonna rain again,” she says, snuggling against him, pulling on the covers.

Agatha doesn’t think there’s such a thing as easy answer here either. But Tedros makes her think that there could be, maybe. _Because he loves her._ He comes back to her because he loves her. He sticks around because he loves her. And she doesn’t need to know _why_ he loves her, because she trusts that he, for some reason, miracle, divine intervention, does and maybe some things can just be as simple as that.

He nuzzles the back of her neck and, outside, thunder claps.

(“Stay longer,” he begged her after he found her wandering around the empty campus, as they were making their way back to his house, “for a couple of days, for another week, for the rest of the school break. Stay for as long as you can.” 

_And then for some more time after that,_ he didn’t ask, but she agreed to regardless.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I wrote pretty much anything, I am unsure if I hate the way I edited this or if I just need a long nap.  
> In other news, it has come to my attention that we have reached 3K hits and 200 kudos which honestly sounds so crazy? It's nice to know you guys like this project so much, so I wanted to thank each and everyone one of you for your support. I haven't been able to dedicate as much time to my fics or to the fandom these last few months, but it still means a lot to me. A lot of people followed me on insta recently, which I'm guessing is because of this fic (cause I havent been able to finish any of my posts since,,,, a while,,,, or was it the spicy headcanons that lured yall to me?), as we've gotten more movie news and new fans, so welcome everyone, I hope you enjoy the limited content I put out randomly whenever I get too in my head, feel free to dm me!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on insta to see me suffer and accompany me on this ride, @_devourer_of_books_, it’s a fun time. Usually.  
> Please, please leave a comment! It would honestly mean a lot if you’d told me what you thought, what I could improve, if you like what I did with this au, grammar, tell me about your day, anything, I’ll take it.


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